8
Drink…
Drink . . ., unrelenting in the need to fill the gaping hole that has deceptively stretched its maw once again.
With an empty clunk, the green glass makes contact with the surface of the table once more.
There is a finality in it, a bitterness that one can only attribute to the bubbles that had previously brought such joy.
The colored emerald shadow stretches long against my arm again, mocking with its quiet untold mysteries, reeling victoriously in my shock at being in this same position yet again.
The phases of the glass may be ephemeral, more or less, as changing as the moons rise and fall of the water.
But the green glass remains unchanged, solidly persistent forevermore.
And the emptiness lurks with it. Yet, it remains easier to find fault with that empty half than to appreciate the fizzling joy of its yang.
The yin is what remains when the gas filled bubbles have all been released --gobbled up by the ever voracious air.
Unsolicited, it remains beautiful.
But nothing stays the same forever.
In my absence, once again the foreboding glass has changed.
The fizzling liquid has reared its sparkling head, rising like high tide to crash its foam at the summit of the green glass.
Joy fills with incomparable speed, filling every pore with its inherent energy, its hopes and aspirations to do better, to be free.
A beaming smile tears free from its confines, brightening everything around it, despite the fact that the receptacle’s own luminescence has been drowned out; its only remains a sickly, vague thing that barely extrudes onto the surface.
Filled to the brim, everything is different. But nothing can run on in such an exuberant way forever.
Such fullness gives way to emptiness, running in pursuit of the the very thing you run from.
The glass raises to my weary lips, and the bubbles prickle at my throat as I drink . . .
The glass raises to my weary lips, and the bubbles prickle at my throat as I drink . . .
What is Love by Chris Condon
Relationships always start out as merry and untroubled, then they progress into something more. Acquittance into friendships, and then hopefully even more after that. Just don’t let your desire take over; as that may scare them away and then they never come back. Love is the product of these relationships --it can be good or bad, but in the end, it doesn’t matter if the other person is good for you. Certainly, it didn’t matter in my situation; he just left, he was perfect for me and gave me the love I deserved, clearly, he didn’t think so. I understand this isn’t something I should dwell on, but I can’t help it it’s all too much of a craving for the nostalgia of our days together, and it brings me pain --but also happiness.
I met him in the fall of my freshmen year, his intense gaze scanned across the classroom of my first period as he stood in front of the class. He was the quintessential tough guy- strong, silent, and self contained. A rush of emotions washes over me, some foreign and some I could recognize, but my mind did not wish to be sucked into them so quickly. In a swirl of kids and the ringing of the bell, I rush into the hall going as fast as I can to get to my next class, already dreading the day ahead. Suddenly, I'm falling to the floor at a drastic pace and waiting for the impact, but two arms wrap around me and pull me back up slowly. Emerald green eyes clash with oceanic blue ones.
“Are you okay?” falls past his lips. That was all I could hear for the rest of the day; it brainwashed my mind, and I could barely focus. I fell under his magic; his spell caused my mind to spiral and I was never gaining my sanity back. After that day, he continued to speak to me. I never really wanted it to happen, but it was out of my authority. I just couldn't be mean to him and hide. He did break my shell, but he broke my heart in the process. He helped me, then watched my break. But I can't let go, and I can't help the salty tears from spilling from my eyes every time I think about him. He was my love, my soul mate, but love doesn't make anyone happy in the end.