The World Is My Playground

Why’d he have to be so unbreakable?

Sometimes you think he’s slowly letting you in on his life, his secrets, his thoughts, and even the seemingly most “senseless” things he has to say. But predictable he is, he’ll shut you off. Not the tackless, rude, sudden “let’s-not-talk-about-it-anymore type of ‘brush off’” but the polite, almost subtle, and humorous kind which makes it hard for you to be outraged and frustrated.

There is such a thing as personal space anyway. I dare not probe and poke and prod or whatever. So I respect people’s privacy. BUT arrrgghhhh… why can’t I just probe and poke and prod or whatever?

He’s like a rock.

A ROCK.

They’re common but innately unique. They’re solid but you know at one point, they’ll break into pieces. They’re so there, so magnificent, so visible but sometimes unreachable.

A PARADOX. Unfathomable.

He’s unbreakable.

And I’m just standing here. Wishing I were unbreakable too. Wishing most selfishly he’ll break down in the most human, most real, most unarming way possible. He’s human.

But perhaps, I’m not the one to make him realize that he can’t live like the world’s going to hurt him or break him into pieces. That’s his own lesson to learn. Where has he been anyway? The world’s out to get everyone. I want to be the one who’ll make him realize that yes, it’s a big bad world, but trying not to be a part of it isn’t helping. And maybe if he bled a little he’d realize that hurt and pain is part of who are, like the blood that runs through our veins. Goodness! Not making any sense am I?

But there. Mr. Unbreakable, I’m hoping that maybe someday if I’m not too tired of waiting, you’ll get back to me sans those walls of yours.