The door opens and I, with a heavy mind, raise my eyes while
my head remains prostrated towards the ground. The rain pounds the surrounding
area with unrelenting force, with guile, filling my ears making the words to
follow all the harder to reach. I've been rehearsing this moment. I've been
reflecting my thoughts into the universe, hoping, denying, relying on the
unspoken to find its home but, as with many things, sometimes you just have to
rise above it all, be brave, then do it yourself.
I start to speak the words that have been burning my soul.
There’s no excuses, there are no other people to blame, no other sources to
direct the vast glares of the people involved. It’s just me, my blame, playing
stupid games, trying to be a man while falling for the part of the boy. Please
understand, please view me with more than a thought, as I'm new to all of this
and, in all honesty, a small bit naïve.
The rain ceases for a second as a brief spark rises within
my heart. My eyes, you see, are not used to the sight of your beauty within
this world. Yeah, I know, we've all heard the story before. Boy meets girl,
girl meets boy, they chat, they laugh, they flirt and then… then… you know the
rest. Words are shared, moments are spoken, you resolve your affections by creating
connections and, then, you move forward.
That’s what’s supposed to happen, that’s what we believe,
this is the natural order of things but, on occasions, we falter and we fail.
It’s often difficult to do the right thing. Or so we say. It’s actually incredibly
easy to do the right thing but, often, we simply don’t bother. I want to do the right thing, I truly do, but
I fight a battle within myself every single day. Do I let go of being a man, do
I let go of being a boy, relinquishing the worldly binds that keep me grounded?
Maybe I should just be me, the person that you know, with no pretence, no
aspirations to be something that I'm not.
As children we look into the eyes of our parents with such
love, such respect, as they’re holding our every design within the palms of
their hands and, due to this, we’re eventually left to find our own place in
the world. We’re set free or, on the other hand, let go and ignore what we’re offered.
Either way we’re here and they’re there. We’re now the adults. There’s no
instructions, no guiding hand, nothing more than two people fumbling around
like two lovers in a car. We mess up, we don’t initially get things right but,
after a short time, we’re running like a steam train at full power.
Anyway, now that I've blathered on for a while, now that I'm
soaked to my skin, I basically came here to apologise. I'm sorry. I'm so very
sorry. I'm not a boy any more and I should never be a boy until our children
call for such things. I'm not going to say that I'm a man. No. I'm not. That
honour arrives when I have responsibility within the world and looking after
myself can never be called such a thing. I'm… me. I just hope that’s enough. I
will be whatever you need me to be when the times comes.
I'm sorry that I said the wrong thing
I'm sorry that I didn't act when the play basically gave me
the script.
I'm sorry that it takes me knocking at your door at this
time of night, in the rain, just to say…
I love you.
Click To Listen
Note:
(It's felt odd writing this as, while I'm thinking of what to write, I'm also wondering if it'll sound fine when recorded)
Click To Listen
Note:
(It's felt odd writing this as, while I'm thinking of what to write, I'm also wondering if it'll sound fine when recorded)
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