Eyes of Wonder

He looked at me with eyes of wonder. My soul lit up, with the feeling of words that must be spoken or they would blow out my ears. I knew my eyes sparkled, my face glowed. I was positively pink.

The content of the conversation is not of consequence--they were simply words I loved, I believed: I was speaking of how the world should be, how life should work out, and how I was determined to live my life. I reached a crescendo and took a final breath. Releasing slowly, I saw I had power. I had something beautiful and it made me beautiful. He was looking at me with eyes of wonder.

He wanted those words, those ideals, those beliefs. He wanted to leave the world that was and join the world that could be—and if I looked deep enough—he wanted me. Me with those bright eyes and golden plethoras.

But the moment faded. Jostled out by distraction. When his eyes returned to mine I was pierced—it was gone, lost and buried past my reach. And we both knew it.

My words were not complete enough to survive the trip into reality. They traveled to the breaking point, shattering at the look that said "girl, you have so much more to learn." I was a lovely thing to look at and wish for, but I couldn't be taken into the darkness or I would fade and become one of them; one who lives in the real world.

I wanted to take him with me, traveling down these words and ideals. I wanted someone else to see them and validate their existence. Someone who believed in them, even more than in me. I wanted someone there so when I fell it did not mean the words were wrong, it just meant I needed help getting back up.

Hope was born and hope was lost. He remained, and I was left.

“You are not enough,” were the unspoken words between us. “You are pretty enough to be noticed, but not to be joined. It is not enough to make a difference, to really matter. What you are saying is not worth it—take it from someone who knows. Live long enough, and you will see your ideals for the fairytales they are. You will give in as soon as it gets hard. It is nice to read in books but impractical in reality. Leave it alone or you will be alone. “

I cried. Right there in front of him. Embarrassed, he didn't know what to do. He was stirred, but said nothing. I couldn’t see him anymore. I saw a road and I was standing on it. The path was made up of all the words I had tried to speak. They were alive, they were real, and I wanted nothing less. So firm, so sure, so true. It was the way of truth. But I was alone.