Just a little beginning...what do you think? Comments? (NOTE: I did NOT write the song at the beginning. I claim no credit for it AT ALL.)
I tamed the winged horse
I slew the giant
I found the magic beans;
I grew the beanstalk
I climbed for hours
And saw our whole kingdom stretched out for me.
I brought you the winged horse
Gave you the treasure
Showed you the fairy tree
I showed you our kingdom
Thought you could share it all with me.
I told the stories and I believed
But now I know that the fairies I’ve seen
Were dust in a sunbeam.
And a promise is real as a dream.
You on your white horse
Made for the sunset
You and your princess bride.
Is this the end of the story?
I fight the dragons, you get the glory?
I play the song over and over, listening to this woman, this perfect stranger, singing words to a song that showed me my life like it was a tear-streaked mirror; an image of how it was, how it might have been, and how it turned out to be.
I sit alone because there is nothing else to do now. No one to sit with. The question that ends the song echoes in my mind long after the last humming vibrations of the guitars have gone: "Is this the end of the story? I fight the dragons, you get the glory?"
Is it? Is it the end of the story? Will he really have the courage to just leave me, after all I've done for him, after all he's done to me? Will he have the shame to admit his wrong, and ask forgiveness? Can it ever be right between us, like it was before?
No. The answer is no. If he asked forgiveness, I know I couldn't refuse him. But I could never forget. And neither could he. And there would always be the haunting suspicion on my side that it was pity and obligation that held him to me. As for him...I don't know. I don't even know if he has feelings any more. I used to love him, but can one love a living corpse? It is as if he is suddenly empty of all human thought and emotion, like a machine twisted around her finger.
But I feel the depression setting in. I can't let it take control of me. Depression is not my way. A wise woman once told me that depression was the road to self-destruction. She was right. So here I am, alone in the basement with my thoughts to keep me company, and I turn to the computer. I will write down my story. I've nothing better to do. And then when I've finished, I will see what life has left to offer me.
