As punishment for feeding his son to the gods, Tantalus was put into a pool of water with a pear tree above his head. If he attempted to drink, the water would recede. If he reached for the fruit, the tree's branches would bend backwards. The treasure he so passionately craved was not his for the taking. Always within reach, destined never to touch.
But what gods have I enraged to receive the same fate? He's the fruit of my eyes that I fathom and yet his hand receded away at the touch of my own. I did not feed my son, but instead my soul to the gods as a sacrifice, in pitiful hopes of earning their favor and earning his trust. I'm in love with incompatibility, and I'm reminded every time I see him with her. Falling in love is not falling over and into the embrace of a lover. Falling in love is free falling. You never know when it ends, it takes your breath away, and when you land, you die. I can't focus enough to see where I am destined to land, but I don't care. Apparently, he didn't either.
