Tantalus' Kindred

I recognize that inavailability isn't a word, but it fits better than any word could.

Oh sweet fate you do tempt me so.

The pain you bring me crushes me, brings me fury. Tantalus has known no such pain as this, this dreadful want and in the wanting an inevitable inavailability. so close I stand, the fruit within my easy grasp, the waters, pure and still, I stand in, all that I must do is reach or bow my head and drink and I will be perforce removed from my eternal torment.

Were it so easy.

True, the branches do not bend away at my reaching, nor the waters fall at my wanting jaw, but they change, and dreadfully so, molding away to rot and plague, turning to acid in my waiting lips. And what have I done? Mortal sins, I’m sure, to be granted my place deep in this hell, close enough to see happiness, far enough that it lies always on the horizon, except for my small reprieves. A benefit of good behavior, I suppose! Though in my eyes my behavior seldom alters! Though, I accept, my thoughts and feelings change like winds in a maelstrom, first crashing in from the left, then shifting abruptly to the right. Perhaps this is what grants my short escape from penance, perhaps the fruit and water sense my thoughts, and grant me some solemn gift for kinder ones. I find it unlikely. My thoughts and feelings I have schooled myself to hide so well that even the hiding is hidden from view, hidden where nobody wastes sight to look upon. My tears fall, so too my blood from these thorned, malevolent branches, and the water remains unstained, and tasteless. Tell me, can any more be said on this cruel fate? This binding of one to the wanting, and the knowledge that only in uncaring can his desires be fulfilled? When I stare at the water, the fruits come oh so near to me. Another apple, this day, I will attempt to eat.