A story lost in a time too far away to really tell. Probably distorted, like every memory, every story told and remembered by a lot of people. Who knows what really happened, all I know is it happened, and it still matters somehow.
I try to forget memories I didn’t even live, I’m sure I can’t do much about that distant tale. He agrees, he’s ok, he thinks it’s probably the last replay.
Then something sings inside my cords, and I wonder how many people really feel that tale. If it’s mine, if it’s yours, or a lot of people just catches the energy of it, from different angles, and only some clearly sees it as it is.
A life that shouldn’t have ended was trapped somehow in an infinite cycle of not being himself. Or maybe, returned to be something he no longer was? His will, was not to be forgotten, so he could continue his life and pursue a way to reach his goal. It was vital.
From this desire, burning like the hottest of fires, the tale kept being told during centuries.
But his goal, he forgot it. He cannot even keep track of what he really was. He’s just… sad and vengeful, and looking for someone who keeps inside another part of the tale.
But now, he only wishes to help me.
Is it right to give it up? Should I try harder to solve the mystery, or at least know more about it? Or should I finally let it go, or even try to consider it a part of my “fantasy”?Sometimes I wonder… The important, I guess, is I keep wondering.
Maybe sometimes I’ll finally decide what to do with him, with “myself”.