what if you continued....?

[dreamwitch]

This isn't a novel, but then, every story starts with a question.

What if there was a boy?

What if there was a boy who sat by the window every day, staring dully into space. His hands would be folded on his lap, and his eyes would always be open, though no light escaped.

What if the boy had said, "Ask me a question I cannot answer," or perhaps-- what if the boy said nothing?

What if there was a boy, and he never said anything. What if you knew this, and you kept waiting?

"Stop waiting, goddammit," he'd say, and you'd shake your head 'no'. "Don't patronize me," he'd yell, and you would be silent. "I hate you!" he'd scream, and you would press your lips tighter together.

What if he didn't remember who he was, so he had nothing to say? He only sat and thought, always frowning. What if you knew this boy?

"Why is it I can't remember?" he'd ask.

"You're better off not knowing," you would say, and the boy would nod.

"I believe you," he'd reply, and then he'd say nothing.

What if you loved a boy, and your love was a question he couldn't answer?

What if the boy had a secret?


"I could never tell you," he'd say. "You wouldn't understand. You'd think it means something."

And you would be stubborn. "Tell me or I'll never leave you," you'd say, and you could tell it was a struggle. You'd always known he wanted you to leave.

"It's worthless," he'd say dully. "If I don't remember myself, how could you trust me?"

"How could I trust myself?" you'd tell him. "Everyone lies, but that's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"That's a big question, isn't it?"

"Not if you answer it."

"I have no answers," you'd say.

He'd chuckle at this. "Well, I certainly don't either."

"So who could it hurt?" you'd laugh.

"Love always hurts," he'd say.

"How do you know?" you'd ask, though your heart would be pounding and your hands shaking and your throat tightening. 'Love', he said. Love. You repeat the word in your head a million times, but the more you return to it, the less you understand.

"That's my secret." The boy wouldn't look at you, but you'd know, because his voice would shake. "And now you know."

"You're wrong, though. You still haven't told me the truth," you'd insist.

He'd sigh, closing his eyes at last. "There's no truth," he would breathe. "There's only me."

"And me," you'd say.

"There's only me," he'd repeat. "There's nothing else."

What if there was a boy who never knew who he was?
~~

P.S. I am but a stranded geek in the backwaters of the waste-dump of the universe. Or something.
/cryptic