The desperado.
Desperado
Why don't you come to your senses?
You've been out riding fences
For so long, now
A lifetime of dreams come true
filling the whole of one year.
Believe it or not, I doubted I would live to experience New Year of 2010.
I don't know, I guess because 2010 seemed so far away in those early years of the 21st century, and I didn't know any better but to say that such a year would never be.
Interesting turn of events.
But I don't wish to die this year either. It would be terrible if ever.
There's just so much to discover, to wish for, to wait for.
You wouldn't want to miss that, would you?
--
Oh, you're a hard one
I know that you've got your reasons
These things that are pleasing you
Can hurt you somehow
I awoke from the most amazing dream I ever had last night.
There were these models who came to live at our house, and I despised them because they were ever so snooty and bratty, and they would treat absolute disrespect to all my things and also my younger brother's things.
We were their hosts, and they treated us with the worst of respect, insulting us, laughing at us, backstabbing us. They were literally human parasites, those women. I absolutely hated them.
And they would not stop being brats. Whenever they littered, they shoved me down and got me to my knees to clean their mess up, my face falling smack on the tile floor and the wounds would swell. They'd use my clothes as rags for cleaning their shoes and my best jackets as their towels. They'd insultingly laugh at my private art and drawings, and shred every one of them.
It was the last straw when they played baseball outside, using my grandfather's unripe papayas as baseballs. Ironic though it is--my grandpa is a huge baseball fan, a Yankee like I.
I wanted to strangle them, really. I did, in fact. I cursed at them, especially the blonde broad, who looked like Lady Gaga and whom I hated the most.
I grabbed their bats and smacked their faces one by one. The most compelling form of sweet revenge I have ever felt. The blood rushed through my veins, power spoke through my bat, torture laughing as they would scream.
But they just would not get hurt! They would easily heal, and they all shoved my face to the ground and made me eat dirt. They took an unblown papaya and smashed it onto my head, laughing as I was showered in my own blood.
Those nasty witches. Laughing at their host whom they've taken absolute advantage of. Even in the dream, I felt intense pain. I felt tears, I felt hate. It was so real, I could cry in my sleep.
I kicked them out because a party was to be held at our home, and I would never invite them.
But they would just not leave me alone. They'd act all vulnerable and fragile in order to obtain some food, but I wouldn't even offer them chicken bones.
Their plan of revenge in that matter was they planted a bomb into my room, and when I went upstairs, I saw a huge clock with dynamite and oil everywhere. I was freaking out, and pushed everyone out of the house.
But then when we realized it was not a bomb, and just a huge clock surrounded by the models' red viles of cosmetics, and everyone accused me of lying and faking a terrorist attack for attention.
And so the models gained the friendships of my former friends and all else who attended, which I could deal with. It was bearable.
They were sipping champagne outside and when I'd go out to run errands, they'd smack my face with tomatoes which stung in my eyes, but this was luxury compared to what they'd usually pull on me.
No one was going to clean up after their stupid party, so I decided I would. But the worst bit of the dream occurred to me in that very scene.
They killed my dog. I realized.
They killed my dog.
I went right to them and screamed at them, hurling chairs, books, anything that could leave a scratch, at them.
It did not feel like sweet revenge. It felt like the worst and most pathetic form of revenge in the entire history of the art of sweet revenge. I only felt hate, not at all caring that they may get hurt and rejoicing in their pain. The best they could do for me was to leave, even the supposed friends I invited did not matter a thing to me.
All they could do was laugh at me and mock me.
And for the first time, in that dream, I really truly cried. It was true pain, cruel, unmerciful, unloving. I just wanted to be alone.
Going back in the house, my brother improvised an ice pack, and apparently invited V and James Jean to come over.
The faces of comfort embrace me and surround me. And it was just a beautiful feeling.
I sat beside JJ as V directed himself to the piano (which in real life we never had, but [pun intended], I could dream). Ei then said, "I hate them so much."
"Me too," I said, sobbing and tenderly pressing the ice pack onto my cheek.
And I could not absorb it anymore. All the ugly and vile things of the world, showing their true face to me. The last thing I could do is cry. And the desire for freedom embibed my absolute fears.
JJ took me into his arms as I quivered and sobbed. He then said, "Shh... you want to know something? I know the perfect song for you."
Something like that, but I took onto it anyway.
V started playing on the piano, Ei consulted V's comfort, everyone transfixed by the song.
"Desperado... why don't you come to your senses?" JJ began.
"Come down from your fences..." V continued, "Open the gate."
Ei and V sang, "It may be raining... but there's a rainbow above you."
"You better let somebody love you," the three of them sang. Let somebody love you.
"Ooh, you better let somebody love you... before it's too late."
A beautifully choreographed song. It didn't even last so long, but the magic of dreaming and slumber had staged the best of them all.
Their plan of revenge in that matter was they planted a bomb into my room, and when I went upstairs, I saw a huge clock with dynamite and oil everywhere. I was freaking out, and pushed everyone out of the house.
But then when we realized it was not a bomb, and just a huge clock surrounded by the models' red viles of cosmetics, and everyone accused me of lying and faking a terrorist attack for attention.
And so the models gained the friendships of my former friends and all else who attended, which I could deal with. It was bearable.
They were sipping champagne outside and when I'd go out to run errands, they'd smack my face with tomatoes which stung in my eyes, but this was luxury compared to what they'd usually pull on me.
No one was going to clean up after their stupid party, so I decided I would. But the worst bit of the dream occurred to me in that very scene.
They killed my dog. I realized.
They killed my dog.
I went right to them and screamed at them, hurling chairs, books, anything that could leave a scratch, at them.
It did not feel like sweet revenge. It felt like the worst and most pathetic form of revenge in the entire history of the art of sweet revenge. I only felt hate, not at all caring that they may get hurt and rejoicing in their pain. The best they could do for me was to leave, even the supposed friends I invited did not matter a thing to me.
All they could do was laugh at me and mock me.
And for the first time, in that dream, I really truly cried. It was true pain, cruel, unmerciful, unloving. I just wanted to be alone.
Going back in the house, my brother improvised an ice pack, and apparently invited V and James Jean to come over.
The faces of comfort embrace me and surround me. And it was just a beautiful feeling.
I sat beside JJ as V directed himself to the piano (which in real life we never had, but [pun intended], I could dream). Ei then said, "I hate them so much."
"Me too," I said, sobbing and tenderly pressing the ice pack onto my cheek.
And I could not absorb it anymore. All the ugly and vile things of the world, showing their true face to me. The last thing I could do is cry. And the desire for freedom embibed my absolute fears.
JJ took me into his arms as I quivered and sobbed. He then said, "Shh... you want to know something? I know the perfect song for you."
Something like that, but I took onto it anyway.
V started playing on the piano, Ei consulted V's comfort, everyone transfixed by the song.
"Desperado... why don't you come to your senses?" JJ began.
"Come down from your fences..." V continued, "Open the gate."
Ei and V sang, "It may be raining... but there's a rainbow above you."
"You better let somebody love you," the three of them sang. Let somebody love you.
"Ooh, you better let somebody love you... before it's too late."
A beautifully choreographed song. It didn't even last so long, but the magic of dreaming and slumber had staged the best of them all.
--
It may be raining
But there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you
Ooh, you better let somebody love you
Before it's too
Late
The year may be ending,
but there's something I must tell to you.
This world that I'm walking through
has never looked so full-grown.