Forever January

Lying in bed, I draw imaginary spiderwebs across the expanse of the ceiling and walls. Light glimmers through the windows as you move beside me in your sleep. I wonder quietly in the back of my mind how many more times in our life we’ll do this — spending our free moments together to keep the loneliness at bay — and how long will our strange, platonic relationship go on.

Sometimes I miss you, though I’ll never say it to your face. You say you’re leaving, moving away. I nod and turn my head.

I hope you find happiness out there — I wish you the best. I hope the unease in your heart settles, that your demons are burned away.

I keep my scepticisms to myself. They have no place here, right now, marring the end of our days together.

I force a smile as I sit up, greeting the morning with a private aubade in my mind.

An ending. I love and loathe endings, cherish and hate. I covet the dénouement, for in those last moments there exists an endless chain of unspoken possibilities — a renewal, a birth, a new glimmer of hope. And we as human beings cannot help but to race towards the light. It’s an ending in and of itself — but at the end, the light continues on forever. As human beings, we cannot help but to dream that we continue on with it.

Once upon a time, we were in the dark. So it began. And we found light, we raced with it, danced with it, lived in it. But as it began, so it ends.

In the dark.