This is Not A Love Story

There once was a boy. And there was a girl. But this is not a love story. This is just a story.

It was different and sporadic. Perhaps a friendship based on a previous relationship or perhaps it was something undefinable in between. Regardless, it was to be envied. The boy was ridiculous. One that you wouldnt find most places and generally wouldnt understand, mostly due to his hipster and douche like qualities. However there was a girl. One that was weird and independent and possibly a fighter. And somehow this all was irrelevant. Years had worn down the independent facade and the douche like arrogance and it was just a boy and a girl. Due to this breaking down there became a place, it was like the secret grove but it wasnt an actual place. It was just a mutual meeting of respect and bare honesty.

Perhaps it is because of the bareness and the exactness of the truth that it was different. Or it could have been because it represented something unattainable. Either way, it became something to look forwards too in a thriving way. The place wasnt often met at. It was only sporadic. Yet it always happened on days where life had battered the girl and the boy didnt know. And possibly that led to the attraction. Or possibly it was because the bareness had led him to be the only person that knew the girl. And speculation assumes that there was something about the brutal honesty and deep thought that led the boy back to that place. And in that grove of secret sharing it was like real time and geographics didnt exist. All that existed was the words passed between the two.

But this is not a love story. This is just a story. And it doesnt have an end. So it is a crappy story. It just has a boy and girl and no resolution. Only a sort of strange peace that lingers knowing that girl isnt alone in the darkness that isnt spoken.