To whomever this may concern,
To be honest, I don't know how to start this story.
I wanted to begin with this profound genesis of sorts. Like an opening that reels you in and begins this story.
The thing is, this is my story, and I have yet to put a label onto it.
Is this a story about love? Maybe about action? The supernatural? The abnormal? My story doesn't need a label-it would do it injustice. And I've been through too many injustices that have changed me, morphed me into a metamorphosed cocoon that ignites the fruition of my wings. Yet, I still feel stuck to the ground and caged by the misery that is now my existence. Through the consequences of other's miseries, I look from the sky, down, and wallow in self-condemnation.
And it's almost comical, how you and I, from unconscious enemies to friends to God knows what, came this far, watching our worlds crumble with dreary eyes. For all we worked for-- all we prayed and fought for concludes to this--an abstract loneliness that eats away our existence, slowly, slowly, slowly is our reward. Maybe if we weren't meant to be star crossed lovers and didn't meet in the first place, you wouldn't be dead, and I wouldn't be deceased, but I guess we all can't have what we want.
Sincerely,
Andrew A. Jones.