Ode To Dostoyevsky

If ever there was a person so unlike others, so unfit for this world, that person would not like me to tell this story, but its a story that must be told I feel, so we will call this person "Person."

The one thing Person wished more than ever, was to fall in love. They imagined many times how they would fall for the individual, and the individual would not feel the same way but then through some twist, through some odd turn of events, perhaps through some perspective offered by Person they would one day realize they loved Person very much. Or Person would daydream that perhaps one day, out of almost nothingness a spectacle of some magnificent sight would appear in front of them and want nothing more than to understand their intricacies.

One day, Person came across Elise, or Elijah, their name did not matter, their sex did not matter, but there was something of this human. Something so peculiar, so grand yet distinct, so subtle yet enormous. Person and Elise or Elijah spoke all night and it started by the seafront.

"I saw you, and please, if I should be so honest, because to me to be honest is to be closer to love, but I will and I must say that I watched you from afar for a moment. Please don't be frightened you may feel solace knowing that I adored you, but this is so odd, so weird and so extravagant as you will say we do not know each other but I swear I know you, or I know this familiar feeling I am not sure."

"You must be confused we do not know each other." They responded, "But if I may say I noticed you as well. And no I do not think this is odd. Certain things may be odd, like doing such an activity at an odd time of day, like reading in the darkness, but this is not odd. How can one think examining a potential lover could be odd when there is nothing but lovers on this earth, nothing but procreation and lust and longing, the one very thing we may all have in common."

"Yes, yes! Oh thank you for understanding me, thank you for looking deeper and now I must ask the question that is rightly so tickling my mind to a woolgathering of some sort and that thing is why are you in this place, and why did you think I am examining you to the custody of a lover?"

"I am at this place as one finds themselves by the sea on occassion if one lives close to it, and if even one does not live close to it then one ponders it, but I should be so lucky and so here I am - pondering by the sea, dreaming by the sea, the place where all cast their hopes and fears, for me anyway. As for assuming you dawned me a lover I would say it was a twinkle or peculiar look in your eyes, you are seeking."

"Yes, you are right, I am and oh my new friend how terrified I am! How shaken and unsettled and remorseful one can feel in the pursuit of calming their soul! And yes I know what you will say, it is in ones own mind to calm their faculty, but in love do - no, should - should not all rules leave like the seasons? Should there be no expectations, no one way of going about declaring an interest or intrigue? On one occassion I'm thought mad for being such a disregarded romantic yet in another occassion some such relationships exist do they not?"

"Yes, I'm so sorry for your loneliness but yes you should be disregarded as there is a way to meet someone and certain ways to not and maybe just maybe you tried too hard or you were too inquisitive because when one shows too much interest it is a sign of an unstable mind and people can feel the linger of a bruised romantic"

"So what does one do? Please pray tell. One holds in with all their might their desire to share their love? Is a weightlifter expected to hold the weight of their heave for years or decades such that I have? There are conversations on such things which are rational and irrational but love stands on its own precipice, it is not a fact of reality, it is a seed planted in the heart of an individual and where else could it start other than with a glance or an inquisition?"

"My dear these are just things we say because we are in a crowd, you see even with the mystery around us now I find myself giving you the answer of the lot as usually people are afoot but if all were alone and they noticed somebody they may love then all would not stand idle for a moment, they would rush to their perceived beloved and die to know everything of them, much like you have done here. But it seems to many this rush, this need, this craving is not for the love of the other but the emptiness of the pursuer"

"Yes, maybe, but to what does it matter? If one is to dig a hole you would not stand forthwith and demand it be filled in with the soil from another plot"

"No, I would demand it be filled in with the soil from its own plot"

"I am saying it would not matter how the hole was filled"

"Yes, maybe for digging holes, but we are talking about love, talking about growing and lifting up another individual, of sharing a life with them and knowing that loving someone is only about seeing them at their worst, to me anyway. And so in order to be there for them should your soil not be tainted? Tell me is that what you see when you imagine love, or do you only see good images perusing through your daydreams? The more detail the better. If you care to explain"

"Of course! I am surprised by your asking and delighted! I will explain in detail my daydream as this is my second decade now pondering it and I find it getting less and less visceral which seems to be the source of my melancholy but I will start by saying that if the soil to my pot is missing and the others is missing too, would it not be easier to fill them with the help of one another? I will explain my daydream now. Of course it begins with a look like I said, but not any look, this look permeates into the sky and captures an entire lifetime, it captures a unique hope and with this look comes all the images of a love you know in your heart will work, it's instantaneous, so sharp, so exact and so unreal - the belly fills with tickles and butterflies and the chest stutters immensely and again, a life with this person is so vivid."

"How do you know this?"

Hours and hours passed by, and time had begun growing more roots around the conversation. Morning was beginning to shimmer.

"Just let me finish. Like I said, this life is so vivid and fruitful and it begins with a look. Then I must gather their attention, I must let them know I feel this way because if you do not say anything how will they know? Nothing will surely come of it, but my mind races and races. Do I say hello? Do I say a quick goodbye and leave a note? Do I speak about the stormy weather or some such apparition? I do not know. I just know I am confused and scared as from the first moment I was doomed to fall in love. Doomed I say. I know for most people falling in love is a good thing but I will have you know for me it has never come to fruition not one time, and it is a slow seething bubbling over of regret and guilt and shame and torture, because the person is still out there carrying on with their life, and one should be happy for them but knowing they are crossing all of the milestones, knowing they fell in love too, knowing someone will make love to them who isn't myself pains me and even in this moment it pains me to even say it pains me. And so it goes. I do not say anything to them anymore, I simply glance at them and move on my way, but if ever there was such an injustice in life so great, surely it would be the silence of a lover. And so I walk along in the night time, I excruciatingly pass by through every moment until the next glance the next stare until again I realize what a fool I am, and this cycle repeats a new, and I ask of you, will it ever be broken, will I ever be better, will I ever just - be?"

"Well some may say there is something a miss with you, something that maybe you missed through childhood, or adolescence or that your parents neglected you."

"Whether that be true or not, is one other conversation, my concern is whether one is allowed to love like this, with frolic, expediency and concrete desire?"

"I suppose, when you put it this way, I suppose one only has a lifetime, and how long is it truly anyway? Perhaps that is why some feel dead long before it is over?"

"Yes I do believe that. And so what of this conversation, what of us? Do I ask you on a date? Do I ask you for your number? This conversation seems to me that it is dying on my behalf, and I am so sorry as speaking has never been my forte although at once I fancied it was."

"It seems to me this conversation has just begun."

They kept speaking - of their tragedies, of past loves and of shooting stars they had prayed on. They talked of childhood and each others dreams as dreamers do, and they said goodnight when the sun was at its highest point, and for once, in both of their hearts, they felt something, but this time wholeheartedly unsure of what it was.