(she)
> how do you think it all started? you know, earth and sh*t. how did it happen?
i whisper.
> i like it best the way hesiod tells it.
you reply.
out of all the times i asked this question, this was definitely the one i got the best answer.
we watch the dark forest outside your cabin, waiting for daylight, waiting to start the trip.
in front of us the car you stole from your parents, with whom apparently you had a rough past that you hadn't told me about yet.
after all, we'd only known each other for a couple hours.
> only chaos, at first. what i like about chaos is how it describes perfectly the way nothing can be an awful lot too, sometimes.
you proceed.
> you know? at the beginning there was nothing, and yet even nothing was something.
nothing was chaos, and chaos was something.
> i get it. it's like saying that pure emptiness doesn't exist, because emptiness itself is full of emptiness, and therefore not empty at all.
you glanced at me, perphaps a little surprised.
turns out the hot chick has a brain.
> that is exactly what i meant, stranger.
anyway, chaos. just... pure chaos, in the beginning. and then, slowly, one at a time, more deities came. the primordials.
you stop for a second, looking around, concentrating, trying to remember some detail that slipped your mind.
> gaea, earth. eros, love. tartarus, underworld.
on your face that satisfied smile, that smile that i didn't know yet but i would get really used to.
[and then, really addicted to.]
> so... greek mythology? your beliefs lie in greek mythology?
> i don't have beliefs.
you really think that if gods were to exist they would waste their time on us?
whoever says that is nothing more than a conceited fool.
...but yes, greeks are highly underestimated.
we let out a chuckle.
> they were right about many things,
you know?
> i don't know, yet. i have this strange feeling that hesiod will always manage to come up, one way or another.
> only if you'll like that he will.
...
> i'll like it.
and i truly did.
mostly, though, because it was your voice i was listening to,
for if i'm being honest
i don't really care about hesiod, at all.
but you wouldn't catch me saying it out loud.
doing so would also be hinting at just how different i was finding us to be,
you see?
you were one of them.
one of the rich, the smart, the deep.
you were one of the beautiful.
so beautiful, to the point were i asked myself if you were even real, because you seemed more like a dream. and i wasn't.
i was one of the trivial, the weak.
you were in search, i was escaping.
but we didn't know that, did we?
because in each other's eyes we were perfect,
because the book in our minds told a story of an unprecedented love.
the book in our minds told a story of a man and a woman, who together formed the ethereal.
and yet that book was no more than a book,
created in our heads,
unreal.
oh, how we wanted to be in a tale,
have the writer make us speak the right words by simply typing them on a keyboard.
if only things were that easy, right?
but we weren't in a book, you didn't always say the right things and yet i always found them just perfect, because i was too mesmerized by the butterflies flying around you, and the blush on your cheeks, and the way it felt when you caressed my hair, to realize how stupid some of your words actually were.
and you were too busy getting lost in my eyes, listening to my whispered lullabies, and tasting my grape-liquored lips,
to notice my venomous forked tongue.
now, m'lord, now i can tell you
you were wrong.
because as it all crumbled down
you made sure to leave
a man-shaped hole in my life.
a hole that, i can't explain how,
simply felt empty.
