Sometimes all I hear is the screams.
They want out.
I want to let them out.
Why can't I?
Being brave for others is easy--just put a mask to hide behind.
Being brave for yourself is difficult--no mask can hide you from yourself.
I don't know him.
I don't know if I'll ever know him.
I've dreamed of him since I stopped trusting my parents.
Arms I could rest in, a heart I could trust in, a mind I could revel in communicating with, and a soul that would fit with mine.
I no longer care if 'he' turns out to be a she. It doesn't matter.
All he/she has to do is love me--not despite of who I am, but because it's just me. And the me that I will become, that changes every second that I live.
'Cause love is supposed to survive change.
I just don't know if I can survive the changes until then.
The fight continued on. First punches, followed by kicks, and then combinations of the two. Then the dirty tricks showed up.
Taunts, cursing, cussing. Teasing the mind with dirty innuendos. Playing the game of war, with friendship the bond instead of enmity. Giggles interrupted the flow of taunts every so often, indicating, against all the sanity of the observers, the fun the participants were having. It was very unreal.
Then the music changed tracks into tribal song, with a heavy bass. The pattern of attack and counterattack slowed to match the beat, looking more like a perfectly time kata duo instead of the serious spar it started as. As the tribal song slowed to an end, so did the participants, finally taking up defensive positions five feet apart. A beat, then they bowed to each other, keeping eyes keen for a last attack. None forthcoming, they relaxed.