A story that begun with an observation, it was a tale that was perhaps cursed from the start. See, our hero was to be one that transcends the very definition of the word special. It was supposed to be too easy. And in time, faced with adversity, they would prevail and be set to embark on their journey. It was never quite to be however. They would not quite ever really reach their full potential, leaving us all to settle for glimpses into a dream. A state of pure fantasy and sheer brilliance. Was this truly meant to be?

The answers may lie in the blood that flows from the epicenter of love. Evidently, all seems so simple in that moment. Instead, that moment would soon fade into memory and eventually into the storybooks. Purely a myth, it was journey that would carry them. Each stop along the way trying to recapture what was too difficult to comprehend. In reality, this was the curse that had beset them. It never existed. Each stop was a moment passing through, fleeting in a state of pure cruelty.

The only moments that were coveted where those where life could flourish and overcome the agony that was bearing down. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be. Despair would inevitably always win out, leaving our hero beleaguered, but always resilient. It was always the main objective to dust yourself off. Get back on the horse and continue riding until the time was at hand to capture the fleeting glory, if only to stare it in the eyes for a few seconds. Enough, so that to know that it does in fact exist, though fully aware that it is never meant to be. In short, it's a unicorn of the soul, a curse to drown amidst a sea of despair. In reality it was the only true destiny.

Now, they arrive at this juncture, beaten and slowly wearing down, aware that a few more beatings like this and it will eventually win out. It'll end, with no answer and many questions. You know, that of the "what could or might have been" category. In a day in age where one can essentially have it all albeit for a few fleeting moments, it will be the saddest of the tales. It will be the story that never came to be. A book comprised of chapters and tales that stain of the very definition of the word miss.

It's merely a formality. Almost as if you are writing your own life page by page, word by word. Each day that passes you can only hope that somehow, any of it makes sense one day. Lately, the outlook becomes darker and darker by the day. But does this mean we are confined to running desperately through the snow? If you listen you hear the soft crunching of it. So violent, yet so peaceful. It is the eternity we fear, yet embrace as home. But, what choice is there anymore?

We truly will never know. No cute analogy. No cute story. That's pretty much it. Slowly, we all fade to black.

There are no happy endings here, only realistic ones. Real life. What a sobering thought. But, that's all it is and all it'll ever be. Seeing something slip way, but realizing there was never any slipping, because in order to make that statement, let's face it, you have to be in a position to let something slip away. If anything, you only could hope to stand on the hood of your car and squint to see it and even then, who's to say it's only a mirage. Get it now? It's fake, a phony, bullshit, whatever cute word or analogy you wanna use. It doesn't matter anyway and maybe it never did. Because this is life and in life, the good guy doesn't always get the call or the last second shot clangs off the backboard to the right and the buzzer sounds, or and here's the worst, most cynical and sadly, the most realistic explanation: the bad guy wins.

See, that's why we immerse ourselves in movies, books, daydreams, etc.etc.etc. We do so because this is real life and whether you agree with me or not, the bad guy wins. And unlike fantasy THIS is the usual outcome.