only you.

my hands clenched around my steering wheel.
white-knuckled.
for the entire hour drive.
sitting up on the edge of my seat.
too frantic even for tears.
it was the longest hour of my life. it felt like days, and days.
thoughts racing. thoughts too gruesome; shaken out of my skull.
"no no, don't think like that. its impossible."
still-faced.
silent.
speeding.
wishing wishing wishing.
black skies and black roads.
three a.m.
exhausted; adrenaline pumping through my veins.
running inside your house. the door was unlocked.
i found you; a giant bottle of whiskey in your hands and tears streaming down your face.
"i'm tired," you said. "i love you, but i'm tired. exhausted."
you said you wanted to die.
there is no actual reason for valuing life over death, you say.
and i sit and wonder, why didn't your father listen to me when i told him you were in this state?
i took your whiskey; and i emptied it down the drain, and threw away the bottle.
and lied to you about it.
saying i dont know where it went.
you were drunk enough to think you'd misplaced it.
i wanted to teach you the value of life.
dr. manhattan style.
i wanted to show you that in life, millions upon millions of cells compete,
and humans; they couple up
and thousands of years later, your mother falls in love with a man she has every reason to hate,
and upon this contradiction of unfathomable odds,
it's you that ends up, distilled in so specific a form;
only you.
its like turning air into gold.
a miracle.
why wont you just understand?
you're a miracle. your very existence.
please, please, try for me.
"miracles by their definition are meaningless."
but you've proved that wrong by sitting in my sight, existing; in the first place.
please,
please,
no need to make things so complicated.
i just wish you'd listen.