Entry 833 – I Heard My Grandpa’s Voice Today . . .

I Need A Hero

Where have all good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Wheres the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?

Isnt there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and turn and dream of what I need

Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
Theres someone reaching back for me

Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
Its gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet

(Chorus)
I need a hero
Im holding out for a hero til the end of the night
Hes gotta be strong
And hes gotta be fast
And hes gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
Im holding out for a hero til the morning light
Hes gotta be sure
And its gotta be soon
And hes gotta be larger than life

Up Where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I would swear that theres someone somewhere
Watching me
Through the wind and the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach
Like a fire in my blood

I need a hero
Im holding out for a hero til the end of the night
Hes gotta be strong
And hes gotta be fast
And hes gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
Im holding out for a hero til the morning light
Hes gotta be sure
And its gotta be soon
And hes gotta be larger than life

I Need A Hero . . .

I know, I have so many entries on private right now, and it’s simply because my mind can’t focus on one thing long enough to finish a damned entry. So many things are swirling in my head that it’s like a kaleidoscope, not of colors, but of voices, memories, thoughts, pains, hurts, laughs, smiles, love, hates . . .

My mom got letter today from someone she talks to in Ohio. I guess she’d sent letters and whatnot back and forth to my grandpa and she’d sent my mom one of the letters that Grandpa had sent her. He’d sent her a casette tape in response to some kind of radio-ized thing she’d sent him. (He’d gone blind when my mom was about two, so obviously he wasn’t able to read letters.) Anyway, she transferred the tape to three CD’s that we can play on the computer, and my dad put them all in to check if they worked. I haven’t heard his voice in almost five years. It was so weird . . . Yet I’m so grateful that I do have it. Now I have a definite way of remembering both his and Nana’s voices through technology, since both have been silenced by the inevitability of time.

I do feel somewhat better after that last entry about Mike. I shut down the computer and called Rob, asking if I could come over early. I drove over there, still in tears, and when I knocked on the door, he answered and just held out his arms, saying, "Come here…" He and I just stood there, him holding me. He asked what was wrong, but I think his more immediate concern wasn’t getting me to talk. It was just to be there for me.

I told him what I could, how I didn’t know that all this would hurt so much, and I showed him the two entries. Mike’s on MySpace and mine on Open Diary.

It’s so weird . . . Everyone else, I’ve always, to some degree, felt that I had to be strong in front of them. Like . . . not like I couldn’t break down, but that they really wouldn’t know what to do if I did. I’ve always been the strong one. The one under control. The one who never showed any other emotion besides anger to people outside. Rob’s seen me cry about five times now. I’ve only seen him cry once and it was because of a song.

::Smiles sadly:: It’s so strange to feel safe in someone’s arms. He was talking last night about things I’m so much better than him at. I’m faster, I’m stronger, I’m this, I’m that . . . Heh. Odd, how when I originally wrote about that stuff, he told me it didn’t matter to him. Because last night, he told me of course it mattered to him. Ned to ask him about that one . . .

But anyway. I’d said to him last night that it didn’t matter what I could do better than him, because there were things he must be able to do better than me. I mean, math is certainly one of those things. I can barely subtract! And I found another thing that he’s maybe not better than me at, but that he certainly excels at in comparison to other people. He’s compassionate. When I got to his house, all he did was take me into his arms. I do think he wanted to know what was wrong, but it wasn’t a high thing on his priority list. It was sort of . . . if I wanted to tell him, I would. But until I could, or would, he would just hold me.

He told me before I dropped him off that he didn’t expect this when he got a girlfriend. Heh. I didn’t expect to have all this residual stuff when I got another boyfriend. I honestly thought, to the very core of myself, that I was over Mike. I thought I’d been over him for years.

Yet, the other reasons what he said in that myspace thing annoy me are as follows.

2) Back awhile ago, when we were still together, I had written what was supposed to be a fictional thing about a girl’s wonderings at her church, and her saying how she wasn’t sure she fit in there because her beliefs just didn’t seem to fit what everyone else’s were there. Mike asked me how much of that I really felt. I said it was almost all true. And he got upset, saying that he wasn’t sure he could stay together with someone whose faith didn’t match his. Maybe not exactly match, but he talked of wanting to get married in the church and how he wouldn’t be able to do that in good faith if I didn’t believe in God. That we’d have to be married by a judge, and he couldn’t stand the thought of that and all this.

I was actually sobbing by the end of it, praying to whatever higher power was up there, that I could tell him what he wanted and apparently needed to hear from me, and for me to actually beleive it so that I wouldn’t lose what I honestly thought was the best person to come into my life up to then.

And 3) He talks of seeing too much to believe in what he was taught. I’d love to know what he means by that. Because honestly, the more I see, the more the opposite happens for me. I’ve thoroughly separated ‘the people’ fr

om ‘God’ in my mind. I don’t believe in the people who claim to be under God. The vast majority of them are close-minded, judgemental, hypocritical morons who want nothing more than to shove how righteous they are in other peoples’ faces. God, on the other hand . . .

I believe in God. God didn’t want me to be pretty, thin, and popular. And by not granting that, he led all the different people into my life that have changed and shaped me for the better and given me the tools and such that I need to survive. As well as keep faith that there are good people in the world. He’s led me to those who would and have taken advantage of me and He’s led me to those who I can help, and who help me in return. Those who give me back that sense of childlike innocence that I miss so much. Those who take away some of the cynicism that I suffer from.

I don’t wish I could change anythig about the course Mike’s and my relationship took, because if I did, if I truly could go back and change things, I may not have met Rob. And only God knows where either of us would be if Rob and I hadn’t met. And I feel that’s why He brought us together. We’re stronger together.

The song I have there is I Need A Hero. It talks about someone larger than life, a superman to sweep a girl off her feet, someone strong, someone fast, someone still fresh after a fight.

Rob’s no superman. He’s not larger than life. He’s actually rather ordinary. He really doesn’t stick out in a crowd. He’s not physically strong, he’s not that fast, and he certainly wouldn’t still be energized after a fight.

But it doesn’t matter. Like Melanie’s MySpace thingy says. "In a world of millions, it all comes down to One."

And I think I found my Hero.