He’ll fall upon his knees, and he’ll say to you- he’ll beg you to stay. He will tell you it can’t be anyone but you, he will tell you that you are the one, he will tell you that you have been chosen. He will tell you the gods are on your side, and you’ll believe him, naive as you’ll still be then. You’ll tell him what you’ve always wanted to tell someone, and you’ll feel loved and wanted and cared for, if only for a moment.
This will be the moment you’ll look back on fondly when you sit at the edge of the cliff that you once thought you knew. The cliff that once knew you. Of course, that was long ago even now. You’ll stand up at the cliff and you’ll wait for it to tell you about all the seagulls it will have seen since you left, but you won’t hear anything. You’ll feel the stinging salt water fling against your cheek, and you’ll pretend that you can’t. You’ll wonder if there were any gods in the first place. You’ll wonder how people can pretend that they ever cared about any of you.
You’ll crash with the ocean and you’ll cry with the thunder as the lightning blinds you again. Dots and spirals will swirl behind your eyes while you’ll wonder why this bothers you so much. You’ll tell yourself to get ahold of your rampant emotions. Somehow, your body won’t respond. Funny how when you’ll be in the midst of battle, your reflexes will increase tenfold, but the one time you want to be able to stay on top, you can’t. You won’t think about the times you spent here as a child, and you won’t think about how the tears you’ll be shedding aren’t the first ones. Instead, you’ll focus on the battlefield, hoping that the sudden searing pain you feel will be enough for you to shut down.
And then, you’ll stop. All your tears will dry while your chest still heaves with labored breath. You’ll know the reason why, you’ll see every last piece of your past that will be hurtling towards you, and they’ll only serve to break you further. Rocks will crash against you, stealing your last moment of peace, and from then on you won’t be able to break anymore, shattered as you’ll be.
They will call you strong, they will call you brave, but they won’t reach for you because, deep down, they know you’re sharp enough to draw blood without even trying. That’s why, one day, you’ll give up on lending a hand when all you can do is hurt, and all they can do is shy away in fear. They’ll scream and cry as if it’ll keep you at bay, and you’ll run. You’ll know, when they curse your name and call you a coward, you’ll know that this was always your destiny. You’ll finally understand why they say it’s better to never meet your heroes.
(you’ll understand that somewhere deep inside, none of them ever really were)