There once was this girl with the heart of a star. And she loved this girl who had wings like a bird. The winged girl was the most beautiful creature Starchild had ever seen. They became friends and Stargirl fell in love. They had two years together, filled with talks that would last all night long, staying up under the stars and weaving their fingers together and cuddling and kissing. Even when they found boylovers, they vowed to stay true to each other, vowed to raise a family together of the most beautiful wildtribal things, have a house with giant trees and gardens and rainbow colored walls, where everyone dressed in beads and feathers depending on their mood: one could be a faerie, a pirate, a dryad, a warrior, an Indian, a priestess. Anything their hearts desired, they would become.
For two years, they watched boylovers come and go. And they were happy. Beyond happy. Stargirl had never been able to open up before. She had spent years in sorrow and isolation, unable to connect with anyone. They saw her starshine and they pushed her away. And then she met the Winged One, who understood the beauty of the sky, the moonlight keeping you aloft, finding dreams amongst the stars. She wanted to be with the Winged Girl always, and although they pledged their love, although they planned on staying together always, Stargirl knew in her heart that she would never been enough for the Winged Girl, knew that her love would always yearn for boylovers who could complete her much more than the silly child like body that Stargirl had.
Starchild knew that the Winged Girl wasn’t perfect. She would tell falsehoods to the people who were close to her, would fall into the beds of random boys who would never see her beauty. Stargirl watched as the Winged Girl dabbled in powders that brought her some peace, lost herself in greensmoke to get her out of her body, watched as she tore apart friendships by sleeping with best friends and getting what she wanted. Starchild wanted to make the Winged Girl happy – she knew that her girllove only did these things because she felt lost, because she didn’t know herself, because she was trying to find happiness where it couldn’t be found. Starchild held on, even when the Winged Girl moved far away in the attempt to find herself, even when all of the lies began to unravel in her wake. Stargirl still loved her, knew that no matter how many foolish decisions Winged Girl might make, her angelgirl would always be true to her, would always be honest, would always be there.
One night, Stargirl sat in the forest, looking up at her brethren sparkling in the skies above her, yearning for her winged love. There was a rustle in the bushes and a skunk emerged, cloaked in his black and white fur and his sadsad eyes. The skunk wiggled his little nose into Stargirl’s ear, knowing that he was about to break her heart, but knowing that the truth had to emerge.
And that was when the Starchild learned of her Winged Girl’s betrayals. How she had gone after Starchild’s boylovers, taken them into her bed in an attempt of conquest. Not just one, for Starchild thought she might have been able to forgive that. But she could not forgive four. She remembered the way the Winged Girl had told her to give up a lover that she had liked, telling her how terrible he was, a monsterman. She had listened to the love of her heart, not knowing that less than a week later, her Wingedlove and Monsterman had laid together in sheets soaked with their sweat and their moans.
Starchild discovered the betrayals, one after another. The lies unraveled, lies told to her by the one person she had always counted on for the truth. And then the Winged Girl changed in her eyes, became a stranger. And the Starchild thought she would die of the pain. She planned to die. Surely, anything had to be better than such emptiness. Winged Girl could not excuse her actions and with one swift motion, their lives were severed forever. The months passed and Starchild began to fade away, lose her shine. She felt bound to the earth, bound to the shadows. She had lost the taste of flight, the future she had dreamed of, her best friend, the mate of her heart. She cried every night. She thought of her winged girl every day.
Then the Starchild found an Angelboy, who kissed away her tears and had a generous heart. He did not judge her for not being able to open up, for always keeping a part of her hidden. He would see the pain in her eyes and hold her close, not asking for their cause, just offering his quiet support. His honesty helped her, the way his eyes never focused on other girls, and Starchild knew that she would always be enough for him, that he saw her sparkle and loved her for it. He was always there, even when Starchild’s belly began to swell with new life, even when the blood began and death entered her body. They healed together, they grew together. Starchild learned to grow hard, knew how to be strong for herself for the first time in her life, felt made of up knives and glass that only Angelkisses could soften. She stopped thinking of the Winged Girl every day, slowly grew into her own life, although she knew the emptiness never fully go away.
And then one day, a mysterious letter arrived. Unsigned and with no return address, it bore words of apologies grasped from beloved songs, invoking threads of nostalgia. There were images of lands that Starchild had dreamed of, and the paper smelled like the wild wind that only blows high above the earth. She knew at once that it had come from her Winged Girl, and her newly healed heart broke again. It broke each time a letter came, one every few days, always bearing the same message of regret and yearning for the past.
Everytime a letter comes, unsigned and expected, Starchild feels the tears come. And the pain comes. And her heart breaks over and over again. She loved the Winged Girl more than she ever thought possible, but she knows that the past cannot be changed. Broken trust cannot be reforged, broken dreams cannot be mended. A love built on lies was never love to begin with, only a beautiful delusion. And Starchild knows it is probably better this way.
'Sisi told Pico that he could never comprehend her, that her whole life was flight while he was doomed to trudge the dust, his lust for sky unrequited.
“But the kisses,” he said.
“They were only half kisses and this you know,” she told him. “I could never wholly kiss a wingless boy. The taste of sky is absent from your tongue.” And he felt that he knew this, that what he sought on her lips was what he lacked.' - The Book of Flying by Keith Miller
No comments:
Post a Comment