A Song of Contranst and Empathy

A moving cure walking on earth. She's not a psychic, she doesn't see the unseen. But she has a way of stating the obvious when it needs to be stated. When he comes to her, broken and wounded, she knows how to lift his spirit, making the gloomy cloud haunting him look insignificant, making him see things he knows are in him. She touches his awareness with her spontaneous unbiased observations, manifesting parts of him that were always there, only forgotten because of the defeats he's faced.

She cures all that. And even if one day she stops being his cure, the fact that she once was, when he needed her the most, will never change.

They are both adults but they love each other in a way only children are capable of. Maybe they are children in adults' skins, living adults' lives and facing adults' problems. Facing them with a childish mindset of belittling what's too much to handle and exaggerating what others take for granted. They're only strong enough to do that when together. They're only secure enough to admit it when together.

Theirs is a pure love fueled by honesty and a bunch of embarrassing truths. Effortless, endless conversations limited by no expectations and tainted by no prejudice are what bonds them. Theirs are more like verbal hugs than they are dialogues.

People like them don't get to be the main characters of stories but in this one, they are. So different yet so alike, they meet in a crossing of worlds. Theirs is the song of contrast and empathy.

I don't know about her but for me, the idea of her existing in this world makes it a lot more bearable. It brings me some comfort even in the darkest of nights. Like this one.

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