Hand

A Story by Koiel

Will you?

Hand

I'm not sure how I let you get to me. It just kind of happened, I think. I wasn't stable, you know. I wasn't easy to get a hold of. There are chords in even the most reckless people, that can only be struck with emotion. And somehow you mustered the strength and will to dig that deep into me, yank out those broken, old, forgotten instruments, corroded and molded, and you cleaned them and taught me to play them again. The power of your heart is greater than I could have imagined. It makes me wonder, often times, what I have done to deserve you.

I'm not sure I'll ever know. Unfortunately, my heart is tattered and cracked in all the wrong places; it doesn't work to full capacity. I've torn it out multiple times, I've got the scars to prove it. My heart has been evicted with disgust and welcomed back with open arms so many times, it's bipolar tendencies have only turned more aggressive. I don't know what worth you see in something so wrecked. Perhaps you believe you'll find a treasure chest buried deep within sewers of my chest cavity. I wonder if you'll ever find what you're looking for.

I wish I could say I was as strong as you. If you ever left me, I'd tear my heart out and never put it back. I'd never let my heart back in, it would be banned from entering my body again. But I can't tell you that, surely I cannot. That's too much to put on you. That's too much pressure and seemingly obligatory requests made of you. You don't have to stay. You never had to stay.

Most times, I don't even know what you're here for. I'm a prude; I'm not open to everybody's influence or whims or fancies. I'm not able to give my body up to you so easily. I've never given it up before, how could I now? Sometimes, I feel it's the only thing I have left. The evils in my life have taken my mind and my spirit, but never my body. I can't just give it away, not to just anybody. So, you can't be here for that; I can gather that. My virgin soul and body are valuable to many, but you don't seem randy; you've never asked for my body. Instead you've asked for my hand.

I don't get things; I don't understand feelings. They come at me like trains and my brain is tied to the track. And you, the hero, come and untie it, just before the train hits and smashes my sanity into bloody flesh marbles. So if I'm constantly taking the roll of the damsel, where am I when you're in distress? Still on the track? If this is true, I know you're not here for that; protection and stability. You've never asked for my guard. Instead you've asked for my hand.

I am kept awake at night. My demons scream so loud, the pitch is so deafening. They remind me of my mistakes and my failures; my pathetic attempts at normality constantly scorched under their fists of fire. I can't be normal, according to them, I can't conform. Not only am I lame, I am incompetent. I am broken and burned and scarred and ruined and wretched and disgusting and have no purpose, I'm useless and powerless to the forces of my insecurities and I am burdened by my past and my future seems so uncertain and distant, and I can't see past the fog of my certain damnation and my faith fails me constantly and I am left in the dark whereas my brethren are in the light, and I'm always--- But you've never asked for perfection. Instead you've asked for my hand.

I don't have wealth, you know that. No, I'm not poor, but being with me doesn't have any material gain. I can't offer you much. Sure, I can stand by you. But I can't get you the things you desire. I won't be able to get a house, I won't be able to bring in big money for years. I'll need time to get established. And my family doesn't have a treasury. Yet, you've never asked for material. Instead you've asked for my hand.

Health issues. Bad enough, the words put together. But it's deeper. My mind isn't right, there's more than one of me. I change rapidly, my emotions aren't steady. My body is contorted on the inside, my womb is forever empty and my ribs are gnarled. And you've told me you want little ones, and we've dreamed of having a family, and we've dreamed of my rationality being restored. Though, you've never 'asked' for a family, and you've never asked for my saneness. Instead you've asked for my hand.

I just don't gather what you're here for.
Ha! As if you'd ask me to marry you...
That wouldn't happen....
No, no..
Wait...
Will you marry me?
I wonder..
Will you marry me?
I don't know..

© 2017 Koiel

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It sounds to me like guy just wants to marry you because he thinks you're worth it. Like, he sees you as worth everything. Even if the thoughts and demons scream loudly and reality encroaches terrifying you, he'd be willing to put aside everything just to be there for you. Now, i'm not sure what his reasons are clearly thought out past how much he loves you, but is that a reason enough? Like, how far will love go to prove a point? I don't even think that the guy wants to prove a point. I think all he wants is your hand and person that comes with it. In sickness and in health and all that. Very thought-provoking. I'm thinking about this entry. This is incredibly inspirational too.