Three Untitled Narratives
by
Z. J. Higdon
I want fiercly to be loved for what I am and not for what I once was. My past is lost to all
but a few including myself. It is unimportant, I should think, to bring to light all that has transpired in my
short life. It is only necessary to take into account how far I have come and all I currently am doing with my
life and this new direction that I now strive for. I feel a great remorse for deeds done and roads taken in earlier
days, but I feel that now I can leave all of that behind and move on to what is truly important now. This newly
found love is what drives me to believe in what I had written off long ago. Everything I was sure I would never
know has come to me so naturally I feel now that I know no other way. Surely this is how I am supposed to live.
*****
This time, I am afraid, is slipping through my frail fingers. I try desperately to cling to this moment with all
the joy it brings and the destruction I know will befall upon its end. "All good times must end," I am
told. Why, then, should we pray to heaven if it too must someday end? I was also told that the only thing to endure
is a man's soul. I think perhaps that even the soul will someday be forced to find an eternal resting place.
*****
She turned and walked away--defeated and utterly crushed by my complete lack of anything that resembled this pointless
human emotion some great man once named "compassion." Pointless it is; rendering its victim incapable
of carrying out what this earth turns to have done. This girl once was an asset to my formidably great life. Companionship
was my desire, love was her aim. God, I was such a child. It took quite a while at least to figure out why this
has no place in such a noble man's life.
Posted 4/12/00