Enchanté

p r o l o g u e

2:32 am

                   

Have you ever laid your head on a grassy rooftop, and just stared at the stars? Do you ever wonder how they could co-exist in the sky in such a synchronized manner, even though precisely they're infinite?

The thoughts in our head are pretty similar to the stars. They all co-exist with one another, and the idea is to let them make peace in the same orderly way that stars do, but this is just an ideal at its best.

Reality is them jumping all over each other, racing to the forefront of our mind, craving their own spotlight as we try to make sense of our lives.

And in this broken world where everyone's busy collecting pieces of their own stories, whom do you turn to organize your thoughts? Your memories, the emotions that surge through you when you think of them?

Nobody.

And your thoughts, your memories slowly battle their short lives away banging at the door of spotlight while your mind tries to block them away, before they give up and retire to the darker depths of your mind, to collect dust while they wait for themselves to fade.

We ourselves live our lives pretty much the same way, battling every day to find purpose, to find a reason to live, a reason to wake up every morning, and regardless of finding that reason, we retire back to the mundane, smaller joys of life, as we near old age, and calmly wait for our time here to end.

But what about the rest?

We're so busy trying to find the purpose of our own existence, we hardly ever pause to appreciate someone else's. To know someone else, to know what makes them happy, what makes them cry their heart out, to know what makes them pull their hair out with frustration, to have them share every stray thought of theirs with you.

It's exhilarating to even think of.

Don't you ever crave to know people like that? To study someone else? To know everything about them, to show them your deepest, darkest versions, and to be accepted for yourselves, naked to your souls?

Don't get me wrong. I don't want to creep on people, but it's the simple interactions with them, their half smiles when they remember something nostalgic, their inconspicuous lean towards the person they love, the little things that make it worth the otherwise purposeless lives we live.

I craved people, knowing them, building attachments, weaving magic as we grew into the people we'd be, someday, and the way the really important ones made me feel.

Not once did I ever stumble across the journey, not once did I ever look back and second guess my attachment to someone, not once did I feel as though I should've let things rest, before I met him. And then things unraveled.

Ziarra Cole