[MI] Disney: Happily Ever After
Apr. 16th, 2008 01:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
changehistoryIt's not anything I have ever considered, to be honest. I've loved. I've married. I've been left alone every time. It was a fact, simple, straightforward, that I accepted. There are no happily ever afters for someone who lives forever, because no matter how much you love, no matter how perfect the relationship, the fact remains that you do not age and they do, you do not die and they do. It has been a defining parameter of my life, and one I cannot deny.
Until now.
He doesn't age, or barely ages, at least. He cannot die. He is a fact, apparently. Immovable and impossible. He has seen the universe, has traveled through time, comes from a future I can barely imagine, and is still here, now. He knows what it is to love and to lose the person to the ravages of time. He knows what it means to walk through the centuries, watching all of the change as you do not change along with it. He is as much outsider as I am, but like I did once, he has carved a place for himself, made a family and a home.
And he is mine.
He knows what I am, the things I have done. There are no secrets I've kept back. He knew, before I even went to Odessa what I might mean to do, and he let me go. He knows I'm still not convinced I was wrong, knows that I might very well try again some day. He doesn't approve, but neither does he leave. I like to think it's not solely because he has some notion in his head of saving me from myself. Perhaps, instead, it is that we can save each other.
I don't like to believe in fairytale notions. The world doesn't work that way. It is full of sharp edges and cruelty no Disney movie has ever considered, but. At night, when he's sleeping and I lie there and watch him breathing, in the stillness of moonlight, with a purring kitten pushing her way between us -- then, sometimes, just a tiny sliver of my heart dreams and thinks maybe, just this once, happily ever after is possible.
Until now.
He doesn't age, or barely ages, at least. He cannot die. He is a fact, apparently. Immovable and impossible. He has seen the universe, has traveled through time, comes from a future I can barely imagine, and is still here, now. He knows what it is to love and to lose the person to the ravages of time. He knows what it means to walk through the centuries, watching all of the change as you do not change along with it. He is as much outsider as I am, but like I did once, he has carved a place for himself, made a family and a home.
And he is mine.
He knows what I am, the things I have done. There are no secrets I've kept back. He knew, before I even went to Odessa what I might mean to do, and he let me go. He knows I'm still not convinced I was wrong, knows that I might very well try again some day. He doesn't approve, but neither does he leave. I like to think it's not solely because he has some notion in his head of saving me from myself. Perhaps, instead, it is that we can save each other.
I don't like to believe in fairytale notions. The world doesn't work that way. It is full of sharp edges and cruelty no Disney movie has ever considered, but. At night, when he's sleeping and I lie there and watch him breathing, in the stillness of moonlight, with a purring kitten pushing her way between us -- then, sometimes, just a tiny sliver of my heart dreams and thinks maybe, just this once, happily ever after is possible.
