The Websolace

In his sanctuary of solitude, he smiled
Took a peek back in memory
Laughed at his tears,
and sobbed at his jokes

Can never be too certain,
couldn’t been so wrong
Held hands together today,
but tomorrow played a new song

by Christina Rossetti
Remember me when I am gone away,
   Gone far away into the silent land;
   When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
   You tell me of our future that you planned:
   Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
   And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
   For if the darkness and corruption leave
   A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
   Than that you should remember and be sad.

Stolen!

NANCY. My turn. How many times have you been in love?

HENRY. Real times?

NANCY. You’ve faked being in love?

HENRY. No, but “real” can be a very murky thing for people when it comes to love. There’s high school love, which, when people are going through it, they think it’s real, but then you look back and all it is, is just … puberty juice. Then you got your basic college-love illusion, where feelings are blown way out of proportion by the fact that you can have sex somewhere other than a car.

NANCY. Some people experience real love at that age.

HENRY. At that age people are in love with the idea that they’re in love. They like how it makes them feel grown up. Then they’re crumbled when it ends because they realize it wasn’t a real adult love. (Beat) I’m gonna say that real adult love happens when two people who have been completely devastated by either of these delusions try to make a go of something new. When two formerly heartbroken folks make a choice to pursue new feelings for new people armed with the knowledge of how much it could waste them. That’s love. Knowing the risk. Knowing it could blow up and wreck you. But still diving in.

NANCY. Henry, you’re avoiding the answer.

HENRY. What?

NANCY. How many real adult times have you been in love?

HENRY. Oh. Zero.

NANCY. That’s depressing. Drink.

I just woke up to the music of the late Edith Piaf.

We’re talking about two partly broken hearts and getting high.

Every word said is just poetry in the making.

Can we cut all this _bullshit_ and focus on falling in love?

Life is unfair! Life is deceitfully unfavorable to any side!

Not really.

The biggest realization so far in my ENTIRE twenty years, is that when life takes something from you, it always leaves you with a lesson to compensate.

I’ve been living my life too smooth to care about the little humps, when presented with a mountain to climb over, I was devastated… of course, I didn’t read the manual given to me correctly, nor did I notice the reaching hand.

No shortcuts, just solutions.

I have fifty or so years to live, at this pace, I’ve wasted nearly a third of my time wondering how the system works. Like a boy I was eager to run mile, scars from trips in mind but never knowing how far the run actually is.

That boy tripped, that boy cried and as he wiped his tears away and stood up, there arose a man.

..and he had one thing to say:

NEXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXT~!