I am writing this after a long day, and I needed to let a few things out of me. I took a shit and a shower and it didn’t quite do it. I needed something more. I felt like I needed to talk to you.
What does it mean anyway, to say a day is long? Your legs are long, long like swords, rapiers that bend and give; gracious and deadly. Does a long day mean there’s more time? That there are more seconds in each minute, more minutes in each hour?
It is but we do more or feel more things in the seconds that pass that there’s more life to our life. It is funny how we say it as a complaint. Perhaps I am merely making light of our suffering and our boredom.
But you, you’re never bored are you? I cannot imagine you living a boring second in your existence. I imagine you in the people I’ve met in school — a somewhat distant past now; but not really.
You and I could never have been friends, not that you could have been friends with anyone. You walk from across a class divide. You are a prince among us and you would not suffer the company of a commoner like me.
I wouldn’t be friends with you anyway. I would have judged you the way a lamb judges the eagle; listening to its mother’s stories how you tore her sisters one after the other with merciless talons.
But I am jealous, yes I am. While my future promises me hooked horns, I would gladly trade them for the wings you already have. You circle around the campus away from anyone’s reach, and the poor ewes surrender to you the moment you descend upon them.
When you swoop, the lambs bleat — but not long, just long enough to be music. I want this power too. I try to imitate your noble screeching, but I am a Wyclef Jean to your Bob Marley. No, the lambs still cry. End them for me Akio. Do what you do.
Back in school I didn’t date even those who I believe I can win with my charms. Why? Not only was I poor, I was poor in a way that is damning: I didn’t own a car, and worse — I didn’t know how to drive.
Even if I had the charm and cheek to borrow a car, I wouldn’t know how to use it. The very best bred I never took to bed, and I hate you for it. You, I hate, for driving around flaunting the flaunters riding with you. Who’s flaunting who?
They’ll all be dead soon, someday.
Won’t you give me a ride Akio? I’ll be a Saionji to your Toga. I’ll gladly play your fool, if I can hope to be you in a world I can remake in your image.
I can hear it too! My soul hasn’t completely given up. I can hear the sound that races through the End of the World.
Less confused writing: The Black Rose Arc [->]
Written in real time, a diary of an anime lived.
One Year Ago…
I became a Gundam Fanboy [->]