Among the White Roses

Deep within his mind, each nerve winds into blossoming vines of white roses, growing into a beautiful field filled with wonder and life. With this life however, there is the dreaded decay of sickness in death because in this world; beauty cannot last forever. So within this flowery field, lies a dark graveyard in the midst of a playground. A playground were extremely ill children nearing death can play in their final days, before they add their own little stone among the thousands surrounding. Many of the children there are in terrible pain, any form of forced effort is absolutely excruciating. They stand idle before the plots of their deceased friends or siblings, some passing at only five years old, infants even.1

Yet among the children slowly creeping, slowly giving to their demise; is a little boy perched upon a rotting wooden bench. Even the playground itself is dying, withering along with those that stroll across its wood chips and swing amongst its bars. While sitting in this dreaded setting, the little boy bounces his only possession. A bright blue ball, it remains shiny and full- resisting the effects of time and use. To bounce the ball up and down, up and down, pains him yet he continues to throw it at the concrete between his tarnished sneakers. The other children taunt him skeptically, saying that he is stupid to do such a thing that will only cause him agony. He will still never give in, he will not let his fingers slip off of this little blue ball of hope. 2

It bounces upon the soft tissue within his skull and rolls along the muscle of his heart. The hope that keeps him to continue trying to get her back, the hope that one day he will have her love again. Even though he knows that it will do him no good, that it will hurt him, that it will make him look like a masochistic fool. 3

"Just because I love you" he told her, "You are the love of my life and I am not going to stop trying, I am never going to stop loving you." She looked into his eyes filled with determination, yet she was not moved by his words. These were the words coming from between the lips of a liar, a cheater, a manipulator. He expected that she would believe him after two years filled with his deception. Their relationship had only shown to her that he was The Boy Who Cried Wolf, it didn't even matter anymore whether or not he was telling the truth. She stayed with him for two years, letting him treat her the way he did; she will never look back. 4

"I know that you are going to give up, because you already did when we were together, on multiple occasions I had to be the one to pick us back up when you brought us down." She softly strummed the guitar lying in her lap, to ease the pain from those heart-breaking memories. He denied her predictions, but he was only lying to himself. After all that has happened to her within the past couple of years she has learned every face of love, when it is masked or painted, or true. She knew that his love was not true love, and therefore was not surprised when two weeks later she turned out right. 5

She had been left without a way home late one night after the release of a new book she planned on reading. The hour was two o'clock and the store was emptying quickly. Without further ado she called upon him in hopes that he would give her a ride, and of course he did. After a good fifteen minutes, the heavy beat of drums nearing signaled his arrival for he always played his music on the loud side. When opening the door she was caught in a cloud of scented cigar smoke, it gave her a warm yet sinister feeling that she could not explain. His hello was curt and almost stand-offish, but she would not complain for after all she was getting a ride home. During the ride she felt a cold aura radiating from him in the silence between them. His character was quite different, almost numb. Though now she saw it, he had put up his defenses the only way he knew how- she had seen him like this twice before. Yet the sensation depressed her and upon arrival she was at a complete loss of words, "Well... uh, Happy Birthday?" He returned a small smile but it did not ease the intense level of awkwardness.6

So as she stood out side the passenger door while peering into the car she asked him why he was acting this way, and she got a simple answer in return.7

"He's sleeping" 8

He was referring to the little boy in his mind, who he said would never give up. But she knew it would turn otherwise and she was right, he's asleep. With that she said goodnight and went inside, on the brim of crying from the pain of being right.