Armstrong
A young boy who strives his hardest to keep his dead father's will. His father died even before he got the opportunity to see him, but that did not preclude leaving him the most challenging will ever, it is his name "Armstrong."
I sat at my desk as usual, Grieve sat close to me as never did. I was like touching the best thoughts ever, settling just deep in my mind. Ideas that human words fail to bring together, fail to determine their nature. And would immediately give up transmitting what they really ought to mean, that is how abstract things get to be fair with each other; for justice is not a strong necessity only in the physical world.
The cup of green tea was on my desk, the smell of mint came out of it, took all its way to the most high, tickling the depths of my nose. I had a bad feeling; it was so strange that I did not feel like drinking my tea. Grieve was still there, and he did not feel like it either. He said that he enjoys my company, and he wants to be around all my whole life, but he was pretty much sure that this is just a freaking impossibility in his world of abstraction. He could not explain much, but later I could ascertain what was that to mean.
Armstrong was the only thing that made me an heir after my father's death twenty years ago. I believed that he had no reason to leave me a will, for he had nothing to leave me except that name, which he thought the best will to faithfully keep. Now, that I turned my twenties I feel like more of strength coming out of that name, and which seems just so hard to keep forever. It was like everything was meant to be fragile within me except for that name, I could not find the balance between the ways I look and the way I feel. The only thing I enjoyed is my six-inch height, and all the way my muscles got to appear so swollen, stiff, and strong.
I have already set my preferences to watch romance TV series all alone. That's the way I enjoyed it, as I enjoyed my tears rolling down on my cheeks, for every single moment of love and every true heartbeat soulmates shared in the series. I never dared wiping those tears; they were so sacred to me. They could have probably meant much like prayers to the God of Love. All my sacrifices brought to fruition a deep and calm sleep right before the series is over.
Next day, after I get my eyes wide open to the true world of Armstrong, I would just pray that everything happened would have been a nightmare and never did take place. But the dried tears on my cheek often refuted all my prayers and had me to accept things the way they truly are.
That was the real human inside me which I have always tried to lock him in and furiously hide him even from me.
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To be continued...
The cup of green tea was on my desk, the smell of mint came out of it, took all its way to the most high, tickling the depths of my nose. I had a bad feeling; it was so strange that I did not feel like drinking my tea. Grieve was still there, and he did not feel like it either. He said that he enjoys my company, and he wants to be around all my whole life, but he was pretty much sure that this is just a freaking impossibility in his world of abstraction. He could not explain much, but later I could ascertain what was that to mean.
Armstrong was the only thing that made me an heir after my father's death twenty years ago. I believed that he had no reason to leave me a will, for he had nothing to leave me except that name, which he thought the best will to faithfully keep. Now, that I turned my twenties I feel like more of strength coming out of that name, and which seems just so hard to keep forever. It was like everything was meant to be fragile within me except for that name, I could not find the balance between the ways I look and the way I feel. The only thing I enjoyed is my six-inch height, and all the way my muscles got to appear so swollen, stiff, and strong.
I have already set my preferences to watch romance TV series all alone. That's the way I enjoyed it, as I enjoyed my tears rolling down on my cheeks, for every single moment of love and every true heartbeat soulmates shared in the series. I never dared wiping those tears; they were so sacred to me. They could have probably meant much like prayers to the God of Love. All my sacrifices brought to fruition a deep and calm sleep right before the series is over.
Next day, after I get my eyes wide open to the true world of Armstrong, I would just pray that everything happened would have been a nightmare and never did take place. But the dried tears on my cheek often refuted all my prayers and had me to accept things the way they truly are.
That was the real human inside me which I have always tried to lock him in and furiously hide him even from me.
----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued...
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