Disclaimer: Don't own it!
Author's Note: Oh, I'm . . . just messin' here, bored and little sad, so I decided to write and came up with this. It's short and kind of meaningless, but I had a couple in mind when I wrote it, so we'll see if ya'll can figure out which Gundam couple it was, it could be fun. Maybe if I get some guesses I'll tell you guys the answer sometime, but it's just as possible and a lot more likely that I'll leave you to your own devices. This story will most likely not get that much attention anyway, but if it does bother you ('cause this stuff bothers me when other people do it) you can email me, and I'll give the answer. Eh . . . can you tell I'm bored? Right. Happy Readings!
000
Leaving
By: Obsidian Sphinx
000
I'm sure that the emotional part of the word 'leaving' is found within the action and/or the fear of the action taking place. It is frightening, and it is lonely. It leaves a bit of a desolate feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the void can only be filled with heavy sighs and a little bit of fear with the understanding that you are now on your own. It's a form of mild torture, actually, because somewhere something is happening to someone that you're close to, or at least used to having around, and you don't get to be a part of it. Whether it's for hours, days, weeks, months, or years, it always nags at you because, for that period of time, you aren't playing an active role in that person's life. Maybe they're thinking of you, and maybe you're thinking of them, but you can't physically be with them, tangibly be a part of their experiences.
It becomes an ache inside, a pain that throbs slowly outward to make tender your fingertips and draw tight your muscles so that you're always reminded that someone is leaving. Anticipation for their absence appears as some sordid lump rolling heavily around your mind, tapping maliciously against the sides of your emotional barriers. No one wants to show how truly upset they are, but those that aren't that upset generally wishes that they had a reason to be distraught. It's rough no matter what because you aren't there, because it's not routine, it's not comfortable, and therefore you aren't comfortable, and that's all there is to it.
Some people apparently don't care, can live their lives with the knowledge that they'll always end up leaving or being left, but I've not met one of those people who could admit to truly being happy about the situation. It always hurts, because we all want somebody for some reason or other, and that's just human, that's just the honestly whistled tune of a social species.
When he leaves, it's never for very long, a few weeks at best, but I hate it. I hate the loneliness, I hate the quietude, the realization that I so vehemently hate being left, and I almost hate him. But he always comes back, and I love that, I love it like I love space; I want it like I want peace; and I need it like I need air. It hurts when he leaves, but I like that he can injure me, I like that I can feel that absence with the same strength and vigor that I feel his presence.
-Owari