That was what he was, idea, anticipation, dream, creation. Or I should say, that is what I made him. What he was, in reality was something so far from what I imagined. I wanted a storm, and found nothing but a sweet summers breeze. I wanted a tornado that would go through me and leave me devastated in its wake, but instead I found a calm wind that seemed to whisper taunting words, cruel laughter, in my ears. I wanted the earth to shake, the heavens to part, the waves to rise like tsunamis. I found none of that, and I was left wanting, so much, I often think it would have been better never to start.
After you have built a fire and made it burn hot, you can't just put it out with a sprinkle of water. It takes so much more than that, and yet, that is exactly what he did, just throw a sprinkle, and in that he made the fire burn hotter, almost as if he made the flames angry and in desire for revenge.
Such disappointment after so much expectation. Such wasted moments... and yet...