Revelation

I listened to Audioslave's Revelation. I listened hoping the word, immortalized in a song, can bring about my own revelation. "You know what to say, you know what i said." You know, I don't. "I'm so broken down, why don't you fix me?" Why don't you? Fix me. I wish someone would fix me. I wish I could fix me. But I don't even know what I said. Maybe I know, but I don't understand. The song starts slow, the beat is soothing. With three beats it sped up instantaneously as though the composer changed his mind about the direction of the song. Revelation. This could be mine.

Revelation. Revelation. Revelation.

I realized it the moment I woke up that morning. But lets start from the beginning, as all stories must. To start at the end would diminish the significance of series of events that allowed me my very own revelation and to understand that epiphany.  The beginning, as it would, is as cliche as every other beginnings of every other story; with a girl. She didn't sweep me off my feet, she didn't twirl her hair and rippled silence through the room. It begins with me not noticing her. To be acquainted but not notice. Its common today. A million acquaintance a handful of friends. Sad, but that is the product of social evolution. Human evolution. While I thought nothing of her, she thought of me as arrogant and cocky. Which is worse? To not recognize one's existence, or to despise it?

A year of mutual acquaintance led up to a single moment, during the holidays, where boredom manifested itself into conversation over the internet. A modern gift to the world. I read in her words pain and loneliness. I pride myself in reading people. No, I pride myself in reading others. I am people, I cannot read myself. To me, I am a mystery wrapped in an enigma. I mocked her pictures, I forced myself into her privacy. I questioned, I persuaded. I was pesky but only because I was bored. A chat here and there turned to actual conversations in the cafeteria. From there it turned to a meeting in a quiet orchard where flowers bloomed but weeds grew healthy too. We talked, for hours on end. We exchanged intimate details of our past. We found ourselves connected by familiar pain. We found ourselves looking into a mirror. We found ourselves reading each other and finally able to read ourselves. I found myself feeling emotion. For a man dead to the world, it is strange to feel emotion. She looks at me and smiles, then glances away. She doesn't dare smile into my eyes. Maybe its because she didn't want to feel guilt.

You see, she had a boyfriend. I never intended to go between them. I never meant to. I don't think I did. But I'm glad I did. Aren't we all? I saw myself a better choice. Don't we all? He was a bastard and didn't deserve her. Don't they all? I justified. To this day, I justify.

Valentine's day came round and already I expressed interest with little subtlety. I persuaded a meeting. One right after her rightful valentine. No, I was her rightful valentine. To this day, I justify. We met, in a park, in our fort. We sat by cupid's cannon and talked. Just talked. No harm in talking. We didn't touch, we didn't kiss, we didn't make love. But we did, we made love. That night, we made love. We invented it. It was ours to call our own. That night we learned that talking does the most harm. A touch, a kiss, a romp under the sack could've been a one time thing. But to talk, that was the most intimate form of affair. Night turned to morning. We decided to leave. It was late. It was early. It was 1.30 am and it was dark. It was early. It was late. I stood in front of her. I whispered, "Oh no." "Why?" she asked. She knew. "I want to kiss you". Silence. I shouldn't have said that. Now I'm glad I did. Now I think I should have and I did. To this day, I justify.

She leaned onto my shoulder. A harmless act. Slowly her head tilts. Slowly i feel her cheeks brush against mine. Slowly this dead man felt more emotion than he ever did in his life. Slowly this dead man came to life. Its a funny thing to be born a dead man and come to life years later. Slowly our lips touch. Just the edges of our lips. We kissed. Our bodies apart, our hands to ourselves, just our lips and forehead touch. Then a step in front, our bodies hug. We stop. "Oh shit". We both knew, this wasn't right. But now it is. To this day, we justify. Silence. Our lips touch again. This time, we didn't stop. We rested our lips on each others, savoring, lingering. Finally, exploring. Our hands began to roam. To the most intimate areas of our bodies. The hair, the lips, the back, the neck, the face. Only much later would we find ourselves exploring the more pleasurable areas of the body. But that night, we were experiencing our first kiss. Our last kiss. That night, that kiss, was the only of its kind. That night, a kiss was a kiss. Every other day, every other kiss, was just a kiss. Sweet and always meaningful. But that night, it was more. That night a kiss was a kiss. Half and hour felt like minutes, felt like hours.

When we finally ended, we stared at each other blankly. We gather our things and left. Glancing at each other awkwardly,  comfortably, we walked to the nearest road. We hailed a cab and kept silent the whole ride through. I sent her home. I didn't want to go back to mine. I couldn't go into her house so like a stalker, a perversed maniac, I waited outside. Sleeping on the porch for morning to come. It already came. For the sun to come. But I wasn't a stalker, a perversed maniac. I had her permission. I had her recognition. She had mine. I had her respect. She had mine. I slept. When the sunrise would come, we would walk together. But that night I slept. In the cold, so warm.

"You know what I dream sleeping in my bed" Audioslave. Revelation came to me that morning. I was in love. I am in love. A revelation in a kiss. It may not mean much to you, but like every man's revelation, it meant a lot to that man. To me, this revelation was just as important. It was a the pivot of my life. You know what I said.  "I love you". You know what to say. "I love you too".