Antiquity

sav (ii)

"When did you meet Dallas?"

I met Dallas during the Spring, when life vigorously shakes off its frozen blanket and new beginnings write themselves. I met Dallas when the sky was confused, therefore, could not choose between which shade of blue she wanted to wear that day. I met Dallas when the clouds were at their fattest, and they floated around lazily in the sky, puffing out big exhalations. I met Dallas during the time of renewal and beauty.

"What was your first impression of him?"

When I first saw Dallas, I saw through the tough act. I saw a scared eight year old boy whose heart was as bruised as his mother's arms. I saw a boy afraid to form any sort of connection in fear that it would be forgotten about. I saw a boy who did not know what he wanted, therefore, hid behind a layer of old corduroys and a foggy haze of tobacco smoke. I saw a regular boy whose life had been so deprived of happiness that he didn't know how to do anything other than hate.

"When did you first know that he was the one?"

I didn't know. I despised him. I hated how he pretended he was emotionless and drowned his feelings. However, I was attracted. What isn't captivating about a lean figure, dark eyes, and an even darker soul? I spent so much time hating his presence, and that forced hatred made me want him even more.

"What does Dallas symbolize to you?"

Dallas is an old photograph. He is smeared around the edges, shades of black and grey, and you can only see what he represents if you peer closely enough. He is very fickle, and has his highs and lows, like the tides, but in the end, he never truly leaves. Dallas is every under-appreciated sense of beauty, but I love him. I love his blackened soul and I don't care if it turns mine.