What else do you expect when you fall in love with the sun?
It’s what the sun does.
It burns everything. Melts everything. Turns everything into dust.
That’s why Icarus, the fool who flew too close to the sun with wings made of wax, was stupid.
That’s whyIam stupid.
And miserable and sad.
But what I’m not is angry.
I’m not angry at him. For being who he is. For being the sun he is.
I try though.
Especially the next day when I wake up and see, through the bars on my window, there’s no snow on the ground. It’s not that I love the snow or anything. It’s just that I thought there would be some evidence of what transpired between us, me and him, only a few hours ago.
Some evidence of the chill, the wreckage.
Even his love bite is gone. I don’t see it sitting on my neck, in the mirror.
As if I imagined everything. Imagined his teeth. Imagined the snow.
Again, I try to be angry at something.
At him.
But I can’t be because it’s not his fault.
It’s not his fault that he doesn’t want love. He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t even know what to do with it.
It’s not his fault that he’s The Blond Arrow.
He trained for it his entire life. He worked for it.
I have seen it with my own eyes. His dedication, his determination.
His single-minded focus.
So it’s not his fault that in the pursuit of all that he forgot to be anything else.
To be anyone else.
It’s not his fault that he’s lost.
Because that’s what he is, isn’t he?
After what happened with my sister, what she did and how their relationship turned out to be. Even I’m lost because I, too, thought their relationship was perfect.
Arrow didn’tdothis to himself; it happened to him.
So I can’t be angry at him.
But Iamsad.
And turns out that it’s also something I shouldn’t be.
