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And it was a strange meeting.
And... Well. Strange in the eyes of some. As technology advances, and as the world gets smaller, I suppose meetings are much more common.
And anyway, love was strange to the boy. Every film he'd seen seemed unattractive, all the ones about love. About how the man would save the womans life. And the woman would fall deeply in love with him for that reason.
And how they'd run to meet each other in a airport, scream out each others names as one person was about to leave with someone they didn't truly love, so happy for us that they finally got back together.
And none of it made sense. If the woman loved the other guy, why did she leave with that one? If he loved her, why didn't he say?
And it went on, and on, until the time he realised what it was about.
And people loved to be shown how their lives would be if they made the right decisions. If they had asked that girl out, the one that sat in the corner on her own that the other boys teased about, but you liked. But of course, you didn't have the guts to see her, did you?
And so that's why the films seemed so good, he worked out. That's why people kept churning them out. That's why the directors were loved by the pointless morons on this pointless planet, because he showed them their imagination. They showed them what it'd be like to have made the right decision. And they can escape. They can escape from the fact they're too weak to run their lives as beautifully as they possibly could.
And maybe people could see it as the same, but this meeting was truly different. It wasn't on the train, it wasn't at the ice cream parlour, or as they bumped into each other in a school hallway and let their books fall to the floor... no. It was on the internet.
And that's all it was. Words. Words and words and words and words that poured from the tips of their hearts and souls. Sentences that meant their minds, paragraphs that explained how they felt, and the two people fell in love. The girl fell in love with the boy. The boy fell in love with the girl.
And one day they told each other. And they admitted. And they smiled.
And so they talked on the phone. Constantly. And they listened, and they sung, and they spoke, and all the things that they so wanted to do. They made each other laugh. They made each other happy. They were in love. Very deeply.
And as time passed, the boy felt so confused. His life felt surreal. The person he loved, the -thing- he loved more than anything in the world, he was unable to touch, see, hold every day. Not because it comforted him to find someone that loved him, but because it made him happy to find someone who loved him for being who he was. Because that's all he was. He was being himself.
And so was she. Each and every day. And they smiled at photos, and they laughed at drawings and smiled at stories they'd wrote, read poems, skits, anything they wrote.
And along came the day, when at last, the boy had raised enough money to go see her. He broke the news, and they were so happy. They could spend a night together, and they could be together, forever.
And it hit the boy. The boy suddenly realised that the girl didn't exist. He'd made her up in his mind. He'd made her up to keep himself sane. To make himself happy.
And she cried on the phone as he told her, as he told her that she wasn't real, he just loved what he had created... he wanted things to stay the same, he wanted to hear her voice... he knew, that as soon as they saw each other, that would be it. They'd hate each other. They'd lose it all. They wouldn't have what they have.
And the girl couldn't believe it. She drove herself insane, she went outside and started seeing the boy everywhere... she tried french kissing strangers that she thought was him, that could possibly be him if she got to know him.
And they both married to seperate people. The closest they could find. And if they both concentrated hard enough, they felt like they were together. If they just closed their eyes, they were with each other.
And the boy returned to his lonely life, and he withdrew into his imagination. He wrote books and plays and films and made characters... all of which crafted from her. From the beautiful times they had spent together. The smiles she'd gave him, just from reading what she had to say.
And she spent her life in the arms of someone else, being hugged and made love to, so she could close her eyes and drift into her imagination, wishing she could trap herself there. And she had two children, which she raised, and she taught them to always follow their hearts, to always do as they desired.
And the boy, with his arm wrapped around his substitute, watched a romantic film with her.
And he felt warm again.
And... Well. Strange in the eyes of some. As technology advances, and as the world gets smaller, I suppose meetings are much more common.
And anyway, love was strange to the boy. Every film he'd seen seemed unattractive, all the ones about love. About how the man would save the womans life. And the woman would fall deeply in love with him for that reason.
And how they'd run to meet each other in a airport, scream out each others names as one person was about to leave with someone they didn't truly love, so happy for us that they finally got back together.
And none of it made sense. If the woman loved the other guy, why did she leave with that one? If he loved her, why didn't he say?
And it went on, and on, until the time he realised what it was about.
And people loved to be shown how their lives would be if they made the right decisions. If they had asked that girl out, the one that sat in the corner on her own that the other boys teased about, but you liked. But of course, you didn't have the guts to see her, did you?
And so that's why the films seemed so good, he worked out. That's why people kept churning them out. That's why the directors were loved by the pointless morons on this pointless planet, because he showed them their imagination. They showed them what it'd be like to have made the right decision. And they can escape. They can escape from the fact they're too weak to run their lives as beautifully as they possibly could.
And maybe people could see it as the same, but this meeting was truly different. It wasn't on the train, it wasn't at the ice cream parlour, or as they bumped into each other in a school hallway and let their books fall to the floor... no. It was on the internet.
And that's all it was. Words. Words and words and words and words that poured from the tips of their hearts and souls. Sentences that meant their minds, paragraphs that explained how they felt, and the two people fell in love. The girl fell in love with the boy. The boy fell in love with the girl.
And one day they told each other. And they admitted. And they smiled.
And so they talked on the phone. Constantly. And they listened, and they sung, and they spoke, and all the things that they so wanted to do. They made each other laugh. They made each other happy. They were in love. Very deeply.
And as time passed, the boy felt so confused. His life felt surreal. The person he loved, the -thing- he loved more than anything in the world, he was unable to touch, see, hold every day. Not because it comforted him to find someone that loved him, but because it made him happy to find someone who loved him for being who he was. Because that's all he was. He was being himself.
And so was she. Each and every day. And they smiled at photos, and they laughed at drawings and smiled at stories they'd wrote, read poems, skits, anything they wrote.
And along came the day, when at last, the boy had raised enough money to go see her. He broke the news, and they were so happy. They could spend a night together, and they could be together, forever.
And it hit the boy. The boy suddenly realised that the girl didn't exist. He'd made her up in his mind. He'd made her up to keep himself sane. To make himself happy.
And she cried on the phone as he told her, as he told her that she wasn't real, he just loved what he had created... he wanted things to stay the same, he wanted to hear her voice... he knew, that as soon as they saw each other, that would be it. They'd hate each other. They'd lose it all. They wouldn't have what they have.
And the girl couldn't believe it. She drove herself insane, she went outside and started seeing the boy everywhere... she tried french kissing strangers that she thought was him, that could possibly be him if she got to know him.
And they both married to seperate people. The closest they could find. And if they both concentrated hard enough, they felt like they were together. If they just closed their eyes, they were with each other.
And the boy returned to his lonely life, and he withdrew into his imagination. He wrote books and plays and films and made characters... all of which crafted from her. From the beautiful times they had spent together. The smiles she'd gave him, just from reading what she had to say.
And she spent her life in the arms of someone else, being hugged and made love to, so she could close her eyes and drift into her imagination, wishing she could trap herself there. And she had two children, which she raised, and she taught them to always follow their hearts, to always do as they desired.
And the boy, with his arm wrapped around his substitute, watched a romantic film with her.
And he felt warm again.
And?
;-)
;-)
And it was a strange meeting.
And... Well. Strange in the eyes of some. As technology advances, and as the world gets smaller, I suppose meetings are much more common.
And anyway, love was strange to the boy. Every film he'd seen seemed unattractive, all the ones about love. About how the man would save the womans life. And the woman would fall deeply in love with him for that reason.
And how they'd run to meet each other in a airport, scream out each others names as one person was about to leave with someone they didn't truly love, so happy for us that they finally got back together.
And none of it made sense. If the woman loved the other guy, why did she leave with that one? If he loved her, why didn't he say?
And it went on, and on, until the time he realised what it was about.
And people loved to be shown how their lives would be if they made the right decisions. If they had asked that girl out, the one that sat in the corner on her own that the other boys teased about, but you liked. But of course, you didn't have the guts to see her, did you?
And so that's why the films seemed so good, he worked out. That's why people kept churning them out. That's why the directors were loved by the pointless morons on this pointless planet, because he showed them their imagination. They showed them what it'd be like to have made the right decision. And they can escape. They can escape from the fact they're too weak to run their lives as beautifully as they possibly could.
And maybe people could see it as the same, but this meeting was truly different. It wasn't on the train, it wasn't at the ice cream parlour, or as they bumped into each other in a school hallway and let their books fall to the floor... no. It was on the internet.
And that's all it was. Words. Words and words and words and words that poured from the tips of their hearts and souls. Sentences that meant their minds, paragraphs that explained how they felt, and the two people fell in love. The girl fell in love with the boy. The boy fell in love with the girl.
And one day they told each other. And they admitted. And they smiled.
And so they talked on the phone. Constantly. And they listened, and they sung, and they spoke, and all the things that they so wanted to do. They made each other laugh. They made each other happy. They were in love. Very deeply.
And as time passed, the boy felt so confused. His life felt surreal. The person he loved, the -thing- he loved more than anything in the world, he was unable to touch, see, hold every day. Not because it comforted him to find someone that loved him, but because it made him happy to find someone who loved him for being who he was. Because that's all he was. He was being himself.
And so was she. Each and every day. And they smiled at photos, and they laughed at drawings and smiled at stories they'd wrote, read poems, skits, anything they wrote.
And along came the day, when at last, the boy had raised enough money to go see her. He broke the news, and they were so happy. They could spend a night together, and they could be together, forever.
And it hit the boy. The boy suddenly realised that the girl didn't exist. He'd made her up in his mind. He'd made her up to keep himself sane. To make himself happy.
And she cried on the phone as he told her, as he told her that she wasn't real, he just loved what he had created... he wanted things to stay the same, he wanted to hear her voice... he knew, that as soon as they saw each other, that would be it. They'd hate each other. They'd lose it all. They wouldn't have what they have.
And the girl couldn't believe it. She drove herself insane, she went outside and started seeing the boy everywhere... she tried french kissing strangers that she thought was him, that could possibly be him if she got to know him.
And they both married to seperate people. The closest they could find. And if they both concentrated hard enough, they felt like they were together. If they just closed their eyes, they were with each other.
And the boy returned to his lonely life, and he withdrew into his imagination. He wrote books and plays and films and made characters... all of which crafted from her. From the beautiful times they had spent together. The smiles she'd gave him, just from reading what she had to say.
And she spent her life in the arms of someone else, being hugged and made love to, so she could close her eyes and drift into her imagination, wishing she could trap herself there. And she had two children, which she raised, and she taught them to always follow their hearts, to always do as they desired.
And the boy, with his arm wrapped around his substitute, watched a romantic film with her.
And he felt warm again.
And... Well. Strange in the eyes of some. As technology advances, and as the world gets smaller, I suppose meetings are much more common.
And anyway, love was strange to the boy. Every film he'd seen seemed unattractive, all the ones about love. About how the man would save the womans life. And the woman would fall deeply in love with him for that reason.
And how they'd run to meet each other in a airport, scream out each others names as one person was about to leave with someone they didn't truly love, so happy for us that they finally got back together.
And none of it made sense. If the woman loved the other guy, why did she leave with that one? If he loved her, why didn't he say?
And it went on, and on, until the time he realised what it was about.
And people loved to be shown how their lives would be if they made the right decisions. If they had asked that girl out, the one that sat in the corner on her own that the other boys teased about, but you liked. But of course, you didn't have the guts to see her, did you?
And so that's why the films seemed so good, he worked out. That's why people kept churning them out. That's why the directors were loved by the pointless morons on this pointless planet, because he showed them their imagination. They showed them what it'd be like to have made the right decision. And they can escape. They can escape from the fact they're too weak to run their lives as beautifully as they possibly could.
And maybe people could see it as the same, but this meeting was truly different. It wasn't on the train, it wasn't at the ice cream parlour, or as they bumped into each other in a school hallway and let their books fall to the floor... no. It was on the internet.
And that's all it was. Words. Words and words and words and words that poured from the tips of their hearts and souls. Sentences that meant their minds, paragraphs that explained how they felt, and the two people fell in love. The girl fell in love with the boy. The boy fell in love with the girl.
And one day they told each other. And they admitted. And they smiled.
And so they talked on the phone. Constantly. And they listened, and they sung, and they spoke, and all the things that they so wanted to do. They made each other laugh. They made each other happy. They were in love. Very deeply.
And as time passed, the boy felt so confused. His life felt surreal. The person he loved, the -thing- he loved more than anything in the world, he was unable to touch, see, hold every day. Not because it comforted him to find someone that loved him, but because it made him happy to find someone who loved him for being who he was. Because that's all he was. He was being himself.
And so was she. Each and every day. And they smiled at photos, and they laughed at drawings and smiled at stories they'd wrote, read poems, skits, anything they wrote.
And along came the day, when at last, the boy had raised enough money to go see her. He broke the news, and they were so happy. They could spend a night together, and they could be together, forever.
And it hit the boy. The boy suddenly realised that the girl didn't exist. He'd made her up in his mind. He'd made her up to keep himself sane. To make himself happy.
And she cried on the phone as he told her, as he told her that she wasn't real, he just loved what he had created... he wanted things to stay the same, he wanted to hear her voice... he knew, that as soon as they saw each other, that would be it. They'd hate each other. They'd lose it all. They wouldn't have what they have.
And the girl couldn't believe it. She drove herself insane, she went outside and started seeing the boy everywhere... she tried french kissing strangers that she thought was him, that could possibly be him if she got to know him.
And they both married to seperate people. The closest they could find. And if they both concentrated hard enough, they felt like they were together. If they just closed their eyes, they were with each other.
And the boy returned to his lonely life, and he withdrew into his imagination. He wrote books and plays and films and made characters... all of which crafted from her. From the beautiful times they had spent together. The smiles she'd gave him, just from reading what she had to say.
And she spent her life in the arms of someone else, being hugged and made love to, so she could close her eyes and drift into her imagination, wishing she could trap herself there. And she had two children, which she raised, and she taught them to always follow their hearts, to always do as they desired.
And the boy, with his arm wrapped around his substitute, watched a romantic film with her.
And he felt warm again.