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It's started all over again.
The cycle never ends. Someone shows up, I'm not alone anymore, and then they leave. It's the story of my life. Over and over again.
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed my all of my childish fears
Sprinkled amongst the bright shinning moments when there's someone around, is the violence. The war that I was born into, and that I helped end. But history is cyclical. Round and round, much like my life, but where people brighten the moments of my existence, war brightens the face of history. The volumes filled with the story of Earth might as well read bla bla bla…War…bla bla bla…Another War…ad nausium. Just because we stopped this one doesn't mean that another won't start up again. Then I might be useful again.
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Children born into a war know nothing but fighting. My earliest memories were of combat. Mobile suits, gunpowder, shrapnel flying, those are the things my childhood is made up of. That and blood.
These wounds won't seem to heal
I remember my mother's blood as she lay on top of me, using her body to shield me from the firefight overhead. It was red. So very red. Almost black from the complete saturation of color. It's nice for a child of three to remember that. But what good was it for my mother to save me. She was only the first to leave.
But not I'm bound by the life you left behind
I'd go through the rest of the list, but it would take too long. Far too long to get to him. The one who made it through with me. The one that won't leave, no matter how I try to force his hand.
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
I know it's an inevitable thing. Everyone leaves, either by choice or death. Everyone goes. Not even the most perfect lovers stay together forever. One of them has to die first. A pessimistic view on love, but a realistic one too. Actually, for a teenager I'd have to say it optimistic. Extremely optimistic.
This pain is just too real
Most people my age think losing someone is the worst thing that can happen. If their significant other leaves, then the world has ended. It's amazing how many times the world will end before they graduate high school. People leave. Things will never stay that way forever, so deal. Even if they're your soul mate, they'll leave you. They'll die. It's inevitable, so accept it and move on.
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
I wish I could convince him to do that.
He came in here and messed up by life, just by being. He lived when he shouldn't have. He stayed around. He stayed. He should have left by now, but no one seemed to pass that message onto him. Or if they did, he ignored it. It's just like him to do that.
Because your presence still lingers here And it won't leave me alone
But he's still here, even after the fighting's done. Even after I tired to make him go. He's still here pushing and pushing and complicating things with his presence. His nightmares. His life. Hell, his very breathing, and it's driving me crazy. Why won't he leave?
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
He claims it has something to do with need.
When you'd scream I'd fight away all your fears
I'm not sure if I need him or if he needs me, but there's need somewhere between us. One of those stupid red threads that won't cut and it's twining our lives together. Even though we barely see each other and don't speak when we do, I still feel this suffocating tight line dragging me to him, and I don't like it.
And I've held your hand through all of these years
So what if I go to him when he's whimpering in the middle of the night, it's a one bedroom apartment that we share. If I didn't I'd never sleep. And yes I do hold him after he wakes but only because it stops him from crying sooner. It's not like I enjoy it any.
There's just too much that time cannot erase
I know I could leave. I should leave, but he'd find me again. He's good at that. This was my place first. So I'm staying. And no I'm not going to kick him out onto the streets. Even I'm not that mean. So he's staying until he wants to leave, which doesn't look like it's going to happen anytime soon. I'm stuck with him until then.
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me
Stuck with his stupid blue eyes, and that brown hair of his that falls in front of them. And his shampoo that stinks up the shower, making the entire bathroom smell like him. And his food in the cupboard, stuff that I could never eat if I tried. And his clothes in the laundry hampers, mixing with my clothes until they make one big mess. His dishes in the sink. His towels on the rack. His bed. His computer. His books. His presence, filling up my life and making it so much more complicated that it needs to be, confusing me by his not leaving. His persistence on staying, and somehow in all that confusion making my life make sense, by his just being there.
And though you're still with me
It's aggravating. It's comforting. It just is...
I've been alone all along
And now I don't know what I'd do without it.
But you still have all of me
Duo looked at the plain, printed papers sitting on his perfectly made bed. Heero had been cleaning again, which meant his was getting frustrated. Perhaps this time he'd start talking.
Picking up the pages and flipping his braid over his shoulder, Duo settled back onto his single, snuggling into the faux, homemade quilt he'd bought at Sears.
"Another therapy exercise, Hee-chan? Oh goody. And one of those stupid song ones too, all about little ol' me again, isn't it?" he drawled sarcastically to nothing, noting by the absence of the laundry that the Japanese boy would be gone for a while.
Several minutes later he laughed, the kind of knowing laugh that puts to rest all your fears, and muttered, "Yes, you might just start talking this time, ne?" before heading to the bathroom. It was time for a shower.
