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I Can't Promise a Fairytale
Switchfoot says, “Hold fast to the break of daylight, the shadow proves the sunshine.”
The only problem is, I still have to deal with the shadows.
The only problem is, this isn’t a fairytale and I’m not insured a happy ending.
If this were a fairytale, I’d still have my beast, the girl that may as well be Beauty. I’d still have my best gal, someone to talk to any time of the day. I’d still have that strength, honesty and purity. I’d still have the artistic girl that rose her arms to the sky in a bright kitchen at 3:14 AM on that day in late May, quoting He whom she believes in.
“Let there be light!”
And let it bring the shadows and a single haunting question.
It’s a question I ask myself often wishing I had the answer, wishing it were a multiple-choice question. I even ask around my mental database, my imaginary friend Alexa, the superheroes Momo and Appa, their archenemies Omega One, Omega Two, Omega Three, and the four daughter of Omega Two, known as the Omega Fours. None of them have the answers, either. They just echo my question.
I believe I sound crazy, absolutely insane. I’m okay with being crazy alone, but it’s better in groups.
I miss the days we were crazy together, sometimes just us and sometimes with others, other friends or Brother Beast or Mama Beast.
Dancing at Skateaway. Rocking out in general. Thriller. Coming up with elaborate, evil plans that would never work. Ice cream. The mall. Modeling clothes we would never wear. Staying up all night, even when I had to get my butt to karate early the next morning.
I choose you, Pikachu.
Getting married illegally through a Pokéball and a Ring Pop, no papers to sign, no minister, no reception, no dress, no guests, all fake and quick before school one day, a day we never remember. Our anniversary was to be Halloween, since the real date slipped our minds. It’s not real but it’s Facebook official.
At least, it was.
Momo and Appa wield their weapons, the Ipod and the baseball bat, demanding answers.
I guess it’s because I went away. Nine days and suddenly the distance was greater than the distance I traveled, that 3500 or so miles.
Months later and in that time conversation was so hard, difficult, forced. Face to face was awkward. I wish everything could be back to how it was before I got on that plane. I wish seeing each other would have sparked this idle friendship, but instead it saddened me.
I hate it.
What’s the difference, anyway? You’ll be leaving in a few days, off to your new life, to the years you’ll never forget.
The difference is that I miss you, everything and anything. I still have those colored pictures of us, the interchangeable Beauty and Beast, hanging on my wall, along with Salvador Peter the Third. I’ve taken great care of that unicorn. He misses you.
I miss our promise, the one that I know will be broken, that we’ll stay in touch and stay the same, as always, just as close, distance doesn’t matter.
Even in my wildest dreams, I do not see us fulfilling that promise.
And you may think I’m crazy or overly lonely or any number of other adjectives that may or may not be good.
But my Beast containing a Beauty, I make this new promise, one I won’t break. I won’t forget you, though we may not stay in touch, and I’ll always take care of Salvador Peter the Third, thought he’ll continue to miss you terribly. You are his father-mother, after all.
I promise the shadows will be the fading of our bond and the goodbye. I promise the sunshine will be the memories of our long-lost friendship, the one that will always have a place in my heart.
I pinky promise.
Until the last petal falls.