The Silence of Early Spring: A Short Story

“I’m thinking of you, on this silent early spring day, if it’s wrong to love you, then I just cannot be right. I drown in your thoughts and won’t pull through without you by my side, for I cannot sleep, dream or even write without thinking of this, the one I am looking for. I hope, some day I find her, standing under a blossoming tree, I’ll see her and she’ll see me, and perhaps we’d go to a cafe for a bite to eat. There, I’d talk to her, admiring her wide-eyed wonder at me, finish talking about nothing too important, and then leave, walking home like two strange shadows dancing across an early spring glen. I’d get back to writing, drawing and painting, and, for the first time ever, I’d get a call, a message on Facebook, finally, that happy, long-awaited moment of pure bliss, that my life would be lonely no more. I would go on to be a famous author, like Tolkien or George R.R. Martin, and she’d become a famous actress, writer, artist or some other pursuit, we’d live, marry, love and die together after a long and happy life…alas, but that is not my life. That is the life of some other young man in love, with some other young bride, meeting under a beautiful spring tree in some exotic, faraway land. My life is one of solitude, of anguish, and of loneliness. It is of my choosing, no less. The world is full of people, but not one is good. All are rotten. Some contribute more than others. Those are the true revolutionaries, the true flowers that spring ephemeral on an early spring day. The rest are weeds, in need of pruning by a watchful gardener. For now and for always, I watch alone, at my computer screen, as the snow melts, on this, the silence of early spring…”

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