Comment: Same old, same old - post "Fight Club". That sentence was the only one I could snatch for Mulder to angst about, don't I get at least a pat on the shoulder for that?
3. Vison
"They were not romantically involved."
Did she look at me? I know I looked at her, but I didn't even give myself time to focus on her face. Was she thinking about us, was she asking herself, as I was, if we are "romantically involved" or what? Why we had allowed so may days, *weeks* to pass by, without talking openly about our relationship?
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.
And then, did she have this - this vision? (Of course not, I am the one having stupid visions, writing incredibly stupid monologues in a black book. Well, it's a hobby, something to do now I've stopped calling sex-hotline numbers.) I suppose I could call it wishful thinking, but at the time it didn't feel like something I had wilfully conjured, it came into my mind unbidden, like a dream.
In the second (or maybe tenth of a second) it took me to flash her a look and look away again, while that sentence was still hanging in the air, I saw something. I saw us (of course, I see nothing but *us* lately) in front of a door. I didn't recognize it. It could have been the door of a future house I wished us to share, but it felt more like the door to a motel room. Brown it was, surrounded by a white wall. We were standing in front of it, I don't know if we had just stepped out or where about to step in, but I know we were together. Not just physically sharing the same space. There was this feeling of togetherness, of being one, that I have only experienced with her. We had our arms around each other, and then I kissed her. And while I kissed her, I felt an immense sorrow, and I don't know if it was mine or hers. It belonged to both of us, I guess.
Thinking back, I try to remember if in this vision, or whatever it was, there was any clue as to where we were, what we were doing there, and why we were so sad. But there's nothing. The sound of rain. A golden reflection - I'm not sure, but that could have been Scully's little gold cross. And this sorrow, this huge sense of - loss, surrounding us, crashing upon us like a wave. What did we loose?
I wish I could share this with her. I wish so many fucking things. That's something else I'm not used to. Wishing. I had learned to live without hope. Everybody knows that hope is not safe, it just makes you miserable. But I'm getting used to be miserable. Well, I was miserable before, but this is - a new kind of misery. Dare I say I like it better than the other one? Dare I say I feel less - alone? Or is it just the aftermath of the still lingering vision, this feeling of togetherness still warming my heart?
I wish it would come true. Because even though we were in pain, we were together. I would trade my soul for a moment of togetherness like that. I would trade my soul.
3. Vison
"They were not romantically involved."
Did she look at me? I know I looked at her, but I didn't even give myself time to focus on her face. Was she thinking about us, was she asking herself, as I was, if we are "romantically involved" or what? Why we had allowed so may days, *weeks* to pass by, without talking openly about our relationship?
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.
And then, did she have this - this vision? (Of course not, I am the one having stupid visions, writing incredibly stupid monologues in a black book. Well, it's a hobby, something to do now I've stopped calling sex-hotline numbers.) I suppose I could call it wishful thinking, but at the time it didn't feel like something I had wilfully conjured, it came into my mind unbidden, like a dream.
In the second (or maybe tenth of a second) it took me to flash her a look and look away again, while that sentence was still hanging in the air, I saw something. I saw us (of course, I see nothing but *us* lately) in front of a door. I didn't recognize it. It could have been the door of a future house I wished us to share, but it felt more like the door to a motel room. Brown it was, surrounded by a white wall. We were standing in front of it, I don't know if we had just stepped out or where about to step in, but I know we were together. Not just physically sharing the same space. There was this feeling of togetherness, of being one, that I have only experienced with her. We had our arms around each other, and then I kissed her. And while I kissed her, I felt an immense sorrow, and I don't know if it was mine or hers. It belonged to both of us, I guess.
Thinking back, I try to remember if in this vision, or whatever it was, there was any clue as to where we were, what we were doing there, and why we were so sad. But there's nothing. The sound of rain. A golden reflection - I'm not sure, but that could have been Scully's little gold cross. And this sorrow, this huge sense of - loss, surrounding us, crashing upon us like a wave. What did we loose?
I wish I could share this with her. I wish so many fucking things. That's something else I'm not used to. Wishing. I had learned to live without hope. Everybody knows that hope is not safe, it just makes you miserable. But I'm getting used to be miserable. Well, I was miserable before, but this is - a new kind of misery. Dare I say I like it better than the other one? Dare I say I feel less - alone? Or is it just the aftermath of the still lingering vision, this feeling of togetherness still warming my heart?
I wish it would come true. Because even though we were in pain, we were together. I would trade my soul for a moment of togetherness like that. I would trade my soul.