Echo

I want to believe in "yes," and "no," and "happily ever after," but I am confronted only by a series of broken possibilities. That's the real kicker - that I want to believe.

Life gets ugly and people are little more than dolls sporting cracked record-players, doing the same old song and dance and forgetting midway through, but I want to believe. I want to believe that those jerky, awkward steps are beautiful and that those jangled, scratched-up chords will resolve into a melody.

Now I'm half in tears, considering what's empty and what holds promise, what's sketch and what's legit, discovering that the scales have a decided lean in one direction. People are dolls (and I include myself in this), capable of so much more motion than they even know, but oh-so-hollow.

I'm a young cynic, but I want to believe in a world of endless possibilities, even though all I've seen so far has been scratched, cracked, and broken. "Yes," and "no," and "happily ever after," are the chords in a melody I've never really heard - I just want so badly to believe it exists.

(It goes something like this:____________________________________________)