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Langa.
Langa Hasegawa.
My SNOW.
My Eve.
The fire in my chest, forced between my lungs and burning up my airways until I can't speak or breathe anymore because you choke me from the inside. I will thank you every time you light my soul on ablaze—even if it means charring deep black on the inside.
Am I the tree of wisdom? Ruined by the hands of men who seek knowledge, power, salvation? Or am I the snake, luring you to your downfall?
God said he made us like him, you and I. Divinity clad in human skin we were gifted, along with all the trees of paradise to eat from—all but one. But what if eating from the one tree doesn't kill us?
He says it will. But what do you say? Will you hold my hand when we walk among the flowers, fingers stretched out to touch the stems, the leaves, the petals and, finally, their fruit? Will I get to touch you?
You've been in every nightmare I’ve ever had.
You've been in every dream I’ve ever had.
You've been everything I’ve ever dared to want, but what if you're the forbidden fruit I'm not meant to taste?
God's denial was the first conversation he ever had with humanity. With his creation. How can you love someone if the first thing you offer is a restriction? Will you restrict me? Will I? How can I live and breathe and run and smile when I know it's all tainted by the one command?
They call it the tree of knowledge. But maybe the serpent lies. Maybe it's not about the fruit—maybe it's not about what the tree offers. The knowledge doesn't come from heaven's forbidden juices running down our chins when we finally give in, when we become what we aren't supposed to be—no—the knowledge is in the sin itself.
God said he made us equal. The divine creator said you and I and every other person is just like him, made in his likeness, but the snake knows, doesn't it? There's more. And we can find out what, if only we bite. The apple doesn’t hold the knowledge, but we do, now, aware that we aren't like him because we are lacking. What do we want with an endless garden of possibilities, when the one promising enlightenment is forbidden?
If you disobey, you'll die. My family likes to teach me the same principles. Does it make them Gods of their own? Does it mean their voices are true and honest and the one real answer in a world full of fakeness? Do we have to constantly test what we love, just to be sure it loves us back? Do you love me back? Do you want to prove it? Can you?
Mankind will lose its innocence if you and I eat. Not because we’ll see that we stand naked before each other but because we’ll understand we betrayed the one thing that raised and loved us. Being naked just means being vulnerable. That's why the matador of love is clad in spikes. I can love without letting people close. But the betrayal? This is why we hide. God mustn't know we learned—knowledge is a dangerous possession. Once you are tempted and do what's wrong, the lie and the guilt will corrupt you, not the act itself.
It's why I hide my passion, even now. If my Gods learn I indulge, I will fall. Death in paradise. But what about you? You're a temptation I don't understand. Are you my equal, holding my hand as I try to navigate the gardens?
Are you my Eve, made from a part of me I need to reunite with to feel whole?
Or are you the snake, asking me to step into bright daylight and perceive what it's like? Fun. It would be fun, wouldn't it be? But what does joy mean when there's duty?
Maybe you are the fruit, made for my consumption. Maybe I have to break you open, tear you apart, swallow all of you until I choke on revelation. But how am I supposed to know, if you never answer me?
Will you run with me, run from God once we learn what life means? Will you be by my side, holding on to me when I'm frightened? Or are you distracted with other opportunities? Life will never be the same if we fall, you and I. What will become of us when all the other demons are in arm's reach? Eat from the forbidden and you’ll be nothing more than God's fallen angels. Just like the snake. Are you the serpent? Are you Satan? Or do we create heaven on Earth when it's just the two of us? Will you be my new God?
Maybe the fall is predictable. Maybe you and I are meant to be torn away from each other, or the heavens, or maybe just knowledge itself. Pointless to wonder what will happen when the inevitable comes, you think? I'm sure God has a plan. Do we? Do you?
I close my eyes and I see your face. Serene when you fly like an angel. Warm and cold, a thousand multitudes contained in a form larger than life. You make me feel like I can breathe again. You make me feel like I’ve never breathed before. Is this what hell will be like? Me, looking at you, knowing it was worth it? Who should I fall for if not the one person that flies like God's servants?
Perhaps you’re the salvation I found long after I’ve sinned. Maybe you’re the angel guiding me back to paradise, now that I’ve repented. Are you my small death, making me a martyr as I die for the sins of others? Or are you the ultimate mistake I'm about to make in the face of God?
Who am I and who are you in this story?
I want to rejoice in the light, the gift of many instead of being forsaken the one. But can I blindly obey an arbitrary law to prove myself? Haven't I all my life? Maybe I have to trust in what God provides. But that is you, isn't it?
However I twist and turn it, Langa. Whatever angle I try to use when looking at us, you're the one who's everywhere. You opened my eyes, for better or for worse, and if I have to die to find you, I will. A thousand deaths, if I must, for you aren't the end of my story.
You are the beginning.