I've often heard people compare love to a flame. Sometimes it flickers, sometimes it flourishes, but true love always burns on. I thought that I truly loved Sydney, and that my little flame of love, though often neglected, would never extinguish; that someday we would eventually be together. My flame was a little flash of hope in our world melancholy darkness, and it reminded me to never give up.
I came back to LA as soon as Syd called to tell me the good news. SD-6 no longer existed. Her light, refreshing tone was infectious and I could almost feel her dimpled smile transmitting it's happiness over the telephone line as my lips curved into my signature grin. This was it. This was the sign that we could finally be together. And the flame grew bigger.
I could hardly contain my giddiness as I unlocked the front door of her apartment. It was late, almost 2:00, but true love never waits. I just wanted to envelop her in my arms and never let go. Tell her how proud I am of her, how much I love her. Her freedom was our second chance to reignite the dimming flame. I'd waited so long for this chance, but the right moment never seemed to present itself. But no longer did I have to wait patiently on the sidelines. I was up to bat.
As tempting as it was, I didn't burst into her room, jump on her bed and start singing "It's over, it's over, it's over!" Her door was slightly ajar, letting a soft sliver of moonlight fall onto the dark hallway. I crept towards the doorway, careful not to step on the creaky floorboard and peered inside, hoping to see her gentle, sleeping form, finally allowed to sleep peacefully. And I did see her gentle, sleeping form in a peaceful slumber, but she was not alone. The flame started to flicker and dim, but would not be doused.
The body beside her was half covered in the crisp linens and had one arm draped over her slender waist. They both had small, content smiles on their faces and I couldn't stop myself from watching as their chests rose and fell in tandem. My own chest filled with a dull pain. How could I have been so ignorant?
I knew I should turn away, give them their privacy, but I couldn't look away. The flame was getting smaller and weaker with every rise and fall of their torsos, but I couldn't look away. I wouldn't look away.
But through it all, the flame still burns. And I realize, that my flame should no longer be compared to love, but rather hope. Hope that one day that will be me laying there under the sheets, that she might someday feel for me what I so strongly feel for her. There is still hope; there is always hope.
I'm about to turn to leave when I hear her raspy voice, softly, as she turns to snuggle deeper into his chest. "I love you," she says. And at that moment, I know there will be no someday for us. She's already found her someday.
And then the flame goes out.
I came back to LA as soon as Syd called to tell me the good news. SD-6 no longer existed. Her light, refreshing tone was infectious and I could almost feel her dimpled smile transmitting it's happiness over the telephone line as my lips curved into my signature grin. This was it. This was the sign that we could finally be together. And the flame grew bigger.
I could hardly contain my giddiness as I unlocked the front door of her apartment. It was late, almost 2:00, but true love never waits. I just wanted to envelop her in my arms and never let go. Tell her how proud I am of her, how much I love her. Her freedom was our second chance to reignite the dimming flame. I'd waited so long for this chance, but the right moment never seemed to present itself. But no longer did I have to wait patiently on the sidelines. I was up to bat.
As tempting as it was, I didn't burst into her room, jump on her bed and start singing "It's over, it's over, it's over!" Her door was slightly ajar, letting a soft sliver of moonlight fall onto the dark hallway. I crept towards the doorway, careful not to step on the creaky floorboard and peered inside, hoping to see her gentle, sleeping form, finally allowed to sleep peacefully. And I did see her gentle, sleeping form in a peaceful slumber, but she was not alone. The flame started to flicker and dim, but would not be doused.
The body beside her was half covered in the crisp linens and had one arm draped over her slender waist. They both had small, content smiles on their faces and I couldn't stop myself from watching as their chests rose and fell in tandem. My own chest filled with a dull pain. How could I have been so ignorant?
I knew I should turn away, give them their privacy, but I couldn't look away. The flame was getting smaller and weaker with every rise and fall of their torsos, but I couldn't look away. I wouldn't look away.
But through it all, the flame still burns. And I realize, that my flame should no longer be compared to love, but rather hope. Hope that one day that will be me laying there under the sheets, that she might someday feel for me what I so strongly feel for her. There is still hope; there is always hope.
I'm about to turn to leave when I hear her raspy voice, softly, as she turns to snuggle deeper into his chest. "I love you," she says. And at that moment, I know there will be no someday for us. She's already found her someday.
And then the flame goes out.