Today I found myself surrounded in a vast wasteland of sad and melancholy faces, all silently screaming at me for help. Each looked the same as the last, if they looked like anything at all. Their faces were almost transparent, pure and pale white, their eyes dark with lack of sleep. In a moment, I was lost into the eternal sea, with no way out... I am not even sure how I found my own way in. All that can be heard is the lonely words of the broken, the icy and bitter tears of the conformed.
"Fashions fade, but style is eternal." Yves Saint Laurent
So I was rummaging through some old, old, old photographs and happened across a picture of my beloved grandparents in their high-school days. It was almost like being in another world to see my grandparents together... well, not really together, just together in an ancient and somewhat moth-eaten slip of black and white. She was absolutely beautiful. He was handsome. They met when she was just 15. Everyone still says that neither of them ever loved another. At least, not since they met in grade school, anyway. They were a rare breed with rare class. They lived peaceful lives until she was taken 7 years before my coming into the world. My father still insists that my grandfather died 14 years later of the heart disease, but I knew all along that his heart yes, was struggling, but I saw in his eyes every moment that he had to live without his "favorite girl", and it was spent in the worst heartache that a person could ever deal with.
I think that would be the hardest thing in the world, losing the only person I had ever truly loved. But after a hundred years spent together, I don't think they ever doubted whether a single grey hair was deserved or a wrinkle worth the tears. They knew it was worth it.