What'd You Expect?
"I don’t know. That’s the answer. I just don’t know. I couldn’t tell you who I am or where I’ve been, much less where I’m going. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m… supposed to.
There’s this story… my grandfather would tell me. Well, there were a lot of stories, but there was one in particular that he’d always tell. That he’d love to tell. And I’d always listen. Not because I wanted to. I did want to, it’s not that I didn’t. But I mean… I felt I had to. You know? And it was always different. Always. Not so much in the way that he’d tell it, but in the way that I’d listen.
I couldn’t tell it to you now. I almost… I almost forget how it goes. I remember what it was about, I think. Or… or what I thought it was about, back when I was six or seven. Or eight. But I couldn’t tell you.
I remember, though, always listening hard. Really… hard. Like I was searching for something. Something behind it. For something… for some reason. Maybe I wanted it to tell me something about who he was, my grandfather. Or who I was. I don’t know. And I felt he was to. Even back when I was six, I felt like he was searching… he was searching too. Maybe that’s why he always told it. Maybe he was looking for something. He always told it the same way, and he always told it slowly, and there was always… always this half smile on his face like he was so close. Like he was halfway there. Like he was going to find it first. But I don’t… I don’t think he ever did.
That’s who he was, you know? That’s who he became. He was an old man who told stories. Who was looking for something. And then he died.
And maybe that’s where I’m headed. I’m just supposed to… spend my life searching for something, some unknown thing that might not even exist. And then I die. Like he did.
But then, you know… What’d you expect?"
There’s this story… my grandfather would tell me. Well, there were a lot of stories, but there was one in particular that he’d always tell. That he’d love to tell. And I’d always listen. Not because I wanted to. I did want to, it’s not that I didn’t. But I mean… I felt I had to. You know? And it was always different. Always. Not so much in the way that he’d tell it, but in the way that I’d listen.
I couldn’t tell it to you now. I almost… I almost forget how it goes. I remember what it was about, I think. Or… or what I thought it was about, back when I was six or seven. Or eight. But I couldn’t tell you.
I remember, though, always listening hard. Really… hard. Like I was searching for something. Something behind it. For something… for some reason. Maybe I wanted it to tell me something about who he was, my grandfather. Or who I was. I don’t know. And I felt he was to. Even back when I was six, I felt like he was searching… he was searching too. Maybe that’s why he always told it. Maybe he was looking for something. He always told it the same way, and he always told it slowly, and there was always… always this half smile on his face like he was so close. Like he was halfway there. Like he was going to find it first. But I don’t… I don’t think he ever did.
That’s who he was, you know? That’s who he became. He was an old man who told stories. Who was looking for something. And then he died.
And maybe that’s where I’m headed. I’m just supposed to… spend my life searching for something, some unknown thing that might not even exist. And then I die. Like he did.
But then, you know… What’d you expect?"
1 Comments:
probably. i suppose if you find everything you're looking for then you aren't allowed to be human anymore. you'll be kicked out of the human race or something. like him, you'll probably find lots of things in life, just not the one thing you're always chasing after. :P
-crysta
Post a Comment
<< Home