Xadrian Part II

He once gave me a rose. One that is not worthy of being kept in a beautifully sculpted vase, but with deep meaning. The rose was already wilted, like a woman's heart after being abused over and over again and left for the dead cold of winter night, like exposing your vulnerable soul to the unbearable reality; beautiful but too sad to sustain, so it rather be dead than have to undergo all other pain.

He once said his soul is exactly like the wilted rose. That the colour of his soul had already fading away, leaving darker version of the colour that once was. He looked like he an abandoned useless died flower, torn apart by life, fragile and vulnerable and void of anything. His soul was void of life. Void of the warmth and the joy it used to hold. If you touched him, he would broken into pieces. Yet, you could see and feel that there used to be something so magnificent, something that used to be grandeur. An old fashion beauty that emanated quandary to those who saw. An enigmatic beauty that needed to be solved, needed to be care for so tenderly and needed to be loved fully; instead of being tended, life pulled him apart, making him the opposite of what he had been. It was all so lovely, but all too sad. All too profound. All too similar to his condition currently.

He was a beautiful man with beautiful thoughts. A perfect broken being that tied together by his need to survive and his lust for discovering things that he could easily relate to. His passion to travel the world and live the way the natives live was all too powerful that it substituted as his breaths, as his reason to live. Never once he ever talked about other reasons, he always mentioned his days when he travelled to an exotic place in India or when he went to Egypt and stayed in the home of an old man who had lost his wife to a horrible weather. He was even more likable and more attractive that way, his eyes would occasionally lighted up when he mentioned the adventures he had and the adventures he planned on doing. He would sometime brushed some of his raven hair and tucked it neatly behind his ear. He would be an evenly more beautiful man with broken pieces, he would forgot all of his pains, but, it was as if he could feel anything. He was too numb.