Whats the use?
God, I was made broken. Some things are just born broken too, like a table without it's legs. It's something you think is so useful, ya know? Yet it cant be used at all.
I am like that, you know? Born and raised in the summer shade by my mama and pa, never was taught the difference between love and discipline. I love both of my old folks, but it feels like I have been hiding all my life and I can’t get out my shell.
I’ve been raised a strong young man, used my powers of talking to them animals and such for only good, I ain’t ever even used my lasso to see which of my folks lied! Never thought once of something I shouldn’t have— yet I’ve realized I can’t hold no love in my heart for someone I want. And it pains me.
I met a young lady awhile ago, known her almost all my life, since around 10 years ago now. It feels like my heart shatters every-time I am near her. She’s as sweet as a honeysuckle, rambunctious and all over the walls. Yet she’s anxious and all clammed up, I wanna show her the beauty of the world how it should be seen.
I’ve been camping with her, took her to the beach, and I want to do so much more. Yet it feels like I can’t, love how I want too. It feels like something is holding me back.
I’ve met a fine young fellow too, as funny as a clown, he is even friends with my sweet friend that I know. Yet I can’t tell him how I feel either, it feels like he can’t know.
I’ve taken him these same places, and even some more, but every time I want to utter ‘I love you’ to them, it feels like a lie.
I took this girl to a prom, my ma and pa ushering me to go as if my life depended on it, I guess it did.
I wanted to tell her then but… I couldn’t. I clammed up and bailed on her.
Ghosted the other fellow too, was supposed to meet him for dinner— guess that bottle of cherry wine won’t ever be opened.
I never told my parents, the shame in what I had done held my heart like a heavy hammer. I was a fool, and not even short; a dirty dog.
Then, some “united division” or some crap— the “UD” sent a letter to my folks. Claimed to be some sort of galaxy-dimension-guarding bullcrap. Wanted my powers and skills to help protect the universe or something. I thought it was bull-hockey, my parents however were overjoyed.
“This is better than any ol’ college!” My ma had told me, showing the letter as if it were a shining pair of new spurs. “You can get out of this old farmhouse, you can make us some money!”
My pa had just twisted his ol’ toothpick in between his teeth, looking over as if he were waiting on my rejection so he could slap some sense into me. I have in, told my ma I would go— and soon I was packed off and boarding a plane out of my small bum-fuck town to a new city to get on some portal transporter.
I had to be screened a lot, flagged through security— hell they even tried to take my pal Steer! But they finally let me through it all and I got to speak to the head honcho of the weird company that there letter came from.
Everything else is a blur, so much happened in so little time it felt like a good night on some crown. Yet, I’m here now. Sitting in a ship with a bunch of other people in this company, wondering where I fit.
The “5” me and two others are studying under is called “The Realm Rangers”. Jokey bunch. I find favor in them all yet I can’t bring myself to fully trust em. They don’t seem all bad.
There’s these two though… an alien and some pressed up joker, the two seem to be pining for each-other, yet seem like something is standing in their way. I see myself in that grey-haired fella. His eyes flick with worry all the time and he smells like he’s had one too many lackeys.
I want to help them, want them to be what they need to be. And it feels like it helps me, too. I can’t love worth a damn, yet it don’t mean I can’t help others do what I wish too.
”If you can’t ever be worth nothing, make yourself worth something.” Is what my mama would say, she’d flick my nose and adjust my hat, then threaten to beat me red if I didn’t get back out to the farm.
Maybe this is what I’m worth.
Have you read this close enough?
Maybe I am just crazy.
I wish they could still hear me, speaking to em you know?
I write in a journal every day thinkin about them, wondering if they regret ever meeting me just like I regret ever leaving them.
Well, It is far too late for any kind of pity party, my folks wouldn’t be too proud of me if I sat here and gave myself one anyways.
I have been learning a new language, ‘French’, think I’m gonna start writing in my journal in that fancy font.
Oh, what’s the use. I can’t take my mind off those two. If you both are out there—
And your reading—
I love you.
Nobody’s reading anyways.
NObOdy’S rEading anywaYs.
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?
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