Edema Rue

To the theatre, regarding walls:

The lights came up, and they flooded the stage. Dozens of them. Bright colors, beautiful hair, glittering eyes. And they sang. Oh, they sang. It was art. 

“To love a mortal is to condemn yourself to unending heartbreak.” At least a mortal can care when they break my heart. You are not cruel, you are callous. You don’t want to hurt me, but you can only heal those who are good enough for you.

And my best is not good enough for you, or for anyone else.

And so to watch them on that stage is to see you giving them the life you could have given me, if I were yours. If I were better... 

Stronger?

Braver?

What is it you want me to be? Because I will be all of it. I will be everything you ask of me, if you’ll only tell me what that is and how to do it.

Because right now, I am tearing myself to pieces to fit into a mold that is both tall and short, both kind and cruel, both loving and careless, for you. I am breaking my fingernails then ripping with fingers that grind down to bloody stubs at the brick wall that surrounds what I can only assume is your heart. And I am watching them tear away bricks with their bare hands and no trouble.

But as I sit here, bone grinding on bloody bricks, I know without a doubt that I love you. 

I love you, and I want you, and that is why you have the power to break me.

I love you, and there are others that I love too. Other worlds. Other lives. Other places I could be,

If I were better.

Stronger.

Braver.

More.

More.

More. 

A dozen worlds, all blocked by careful walls that I cannot beat.

A hundred lives that I can see through the window.

A thousand people that are just like me,

Only they made it in.

And I’m on the outside.

Not on your cast list,

Your state list,

Your “points” list.

And it hurts. But then I watch them pull each other close and kiss on your stage, and I fall in love again.

And I stay in love.

Why?

Rue