A girl turned a child into a boy.He admired her everyday for four years of his life.Never knew what she meant to him..They say "you never know what you got till it's gone",but what about losing a thing you never had.Love was too heavy a word for him.He refrained from responsibilities,expectations,judgements even conversations.He lived for those subconscious realities wherein he would change but she wouldn't.He didn't want to fall for her, he just wanted to stand beside her for all his life.All the following years whenever he heard, saw or spoke about love he felt a indifferent familiarity.His morning realities were tryst with memoirs furnished of new found fathoms of a cliched emotion.In the most beautiful one of these the realization of perdition shook him to attend her funeral.
This subconscious sport by night and the analytical solitude by day laid such contentment that life had revised its meaning.The boy knew this fantasy was his creation but the pain of this unrequited emotion was an outcast like him.He understood the joy in pain of playing god.Boy came of age hoping the girl had too but the rift inside him between what he had and the envy for the images of putative love he had seen grew. This rift had to have a bridge but the two worlds could never coexist.The depths of the rift were the only solution of the perception of owning "something different".But the acceptance of this solution was the annihilation of everything. The existence of the man was due to the girl but the allusion that the women had remains of the her blurred the illusion.The self inflicted burns of a vice made the inhalation of air beneath the bridge possible.
With the passage of time the world inside the mirror started to fade and as a result the one outside it.To create a next beautiful mirage it was necessary to destroy the present one.Organizing a wake for the girl and inviting the one closest to her was the man's version of paradise on earth."A fuck up ,loser with no identity suffering from inferiority complex could admire anyone but the question is Is there something admirable in what i fear the most i can be".
