So For Once In My Life, Let Me Get What I Want, Lord Knows, It Would Be The First Time, Lord Knows, It Would Be The First Time

--"Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want (Cover)", Muse

one seven seven

thieving time, auctioned
life, to be reclaimed by a
girl's key-holding hand.
~dw

----

When I arrived home yesterday she was waiting for me in the driveway--black, sexy, and perfect. Perfect. I'd wanted to meet her almost half of my life, ever since I first laid eyes on her on the highway. But I was too timid. Shy. I didn't know how to voice my feelings in a codified statement. Even as the years passed and I began to see others like her everywhere--on vacation, at a friend's house, at school--I still was skeptical she would ever look my way. I was hesitant. Scared. I was frightened of dreaming too grandly, setting my sights on a woman far out of my reach. I wanted no hope because I didn't want my hopes to be dashed.

Then a funny thing happened on the way to abstracting myself from my dreams. I decided she wasn't out of my reach, out of my grasp. She was living close by the whole time, not even twenty minutes from my parents' house. It was time to clue my family in on my beautiful valentine. The meeting far exceeded any imagination of it. They had understood. They were understanding throughout my explanation of my unwavering desire for Ilsa. Although it might not have been their life's ambition, they recognized the tell-tale signs it was and would ever be one of mine. They greed to assist me in attaining her.

Some said it was a fleeting crush, an affair of whimsy, too raw and young to be tangible. Some said I would outgrow my desire when someone new, sleeker and lovelier, came along. Some said I didn't know what I wanted. How can a girl not yet a decade on this planet know who or what she wants later on in life? How is that possible?

I knew they were wrong, though. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I knew my Ilsa would be mine one day. If I didn't let anyone dissuade me from my aspiration, stayed resolute, I knew she would come.

Dreams are funny like that. No two people's ever synchronize entirely. What I want isn't what Françoise wants. What Jack wants isn't what Nora wants. It isn't possible to ever want the same goals perfectly. Even married couples have their own diverging paths to what they want their future together to look like. I once believed that one day my goals would fall more in line with the people around. One day I would see my horizon as they see theirs, but now I'm finally learning that the glasses we all wear are tinged with slightly different colors. I may see things bluer than most, whereas another person might actually possess rose-colored glasses. Our views of the world and of our future all are colored by many tints and hues. It's recognizing the fact that we all are wearing different colored glasses that makes any kind of understanding possible. I had a dream of a woman in black and my family, though they couldn't see the same woman I saw whenever we contacted her former love, recognized that I was in love and that love would not be denied.

That's the thing about dreams. It doesn't matter what you dream, as long as you have one. Ilsa was always the one and now she and I can finally be together. Finally, I've found a joy no one can ever take away from me.

Gosh. I do believe I'm starting to get a handle on this getting old thing.


good times for a change

dw