he told me quite frankly one day as we sat out by a setting sun that i was a disappointment. a complete, colossal, catastrophic disappointment. it caught me off guard at first, the urgency in which he spoke. completely serious in his approach. i glanced at him sideways, attempting to decipher whether his eyes had that silly gleam that i had come to love. there was none. just disappointment. it was all i could do not to roll down that hill in laughter. not to clutch my sides and allow for the wave of relief that swelled from the pit of my stomach to swallow me whole. "it took you this long, huh?" i asked him plainly, turning to face the sun once more. this angered him. my laughter. my nonchalance. he expected grief, this much i could tell. sadness. tears. he expected something more than what i gave him. he always expected something more than what i could give. "none of this means anything to you," he said, his voice rising an octave higher, unsteadiness evident in his tone and his hands flailing about his face as though he were trying to paint this picture of me that could fulfill his desire. it was all i could do not to cry. raucous laughter and sad smiles. i stood, angry that i would not be able to watch the sun set one last time above the hills we had wandered for so long. a path he set out knowing well what was to come. he never did appreciate the sunsets, the idea that days are born and die with pinks and oranges in the sky. i left him sitting by himself, just as he knew i would. what else could i possibly do? i was a disappointment. but that's quite alright, for so was he.