The Waiting Game
Prompt: Eternity
Words: 456
Original
Eternity isn’t something she thinks about much. She’s nineteen, you know, and much too young to be mucking about with such serious topics. She pretends to be naïve now and then, because being nineteen is something that only happens once; she’s afraid that she may never feel this way again. And it’s a valid fear, because the truth is, she won’t - and the months are already tumbling past. So she rarely concerns herself with burning abstractions of “always,” having far too much to not worry about.
And yet, despite every justification in the world, her mind will occasionally drift too far ahead for her body to follow. Every so often, she forgets her recent birthday and allows herself to wonder if she’s standing on the brink of something bigger. Weddings make her think, and it certainly seems like everyone she knows is getting married and throwing themselves to the will of the slipstream. Fate can be funny that way.
What of eternity, she muses? What do we know of forever? How can we presume to make such promises? For all her laughter and motion, for all the affection that spills from her being, she is a serious girl. Promises are serious business, she reasons, and should only be made when you know you can keep them. Logically, she does not approve of such easy alliances. Logically, nineteen is too young. Teenagers shouldn’t be swearing solemn oaths to each other. Teenagers know nothing of forever.
But sometimes, she thinks, she is a hypocrite.
Because sometimes, he does something. Nothing big. A smile. A comment. A look. Sometimes, all he has to do is enter the room, and she will find herself thinking of eternity. She wages fierce inner-battles, struggling, wondering, and trying to keep that grin in check. They are different than the others, she proclaims, true to age and color. They can no longer remember a time when they were not tangled in each other. They understand Hell and faith and waiting. They have no secrets. They are best friends. And although she is nineteen, he is not; has not been in a long time. It creates an interesting dynamic, she reasons, bringing one to one’s senses. It provides perspective. Or strips it.
When she thinks about eternity, he is always forefront on her mind. It would probably scare him if he knew. But he is tangled in the word, the way she is tangled in him. Would it be so bad, she wonders? Am I really so young?
She will try to reason it away. She is only nineteen, after all. But she won’t be forever, and he will still be there. And they would look so good in love.
Words: 456
Original
Eternity isn’t something she thinks about much. She’s nineteen, you know, and much too young to be mucking about with such serious topics. She pretends to be naïve now and then, because being nineteen is something that only happens once; she’s afraid that she may never feel this way again. And it’s a valid fear, because the truth is, she won’t - and the months are already tumbling past. So she rarely concerns herself with burning abstractions of “always,” having far too much to not worry about.
And yet, despite every justification in the world, her mind will occasionally drift too far ahead for her body to follow. Every so often, she forgets her recent birthday and allows herself to wonder if she’s standing on the brink of something bigger. Weddings make her think, and it certainly seems like everyone she knows is getting married and throwing themselves to the will of the slipstream. Fate can be funny that way.
What of eternity, she muses? What do we know of forever? How can we presume to make such promises? For all her laughter and motion, for all the affection that spills from her being, she is a serious girl. Promises are serious business, she reasons, and should only be made when you know you can keep them. Logically, she does not approve of such easy alliances. Logically, nineteen is too young. Teenagers shouldn’t be swearing solemn oaths to each other. Teenagers know nothing of forever.
But sometimes, she thinks, she is a hypocrite.
Because sometimes, he does something. Nothing big. A smile. A comment. A look. Sometimes, all he has to do is enter the room, and she will find herself thinking of eternity. She wages fierce inner-battles, struggling, wondering, and trying to keep that grin in check. They are different than the others, she proclaims, true to age and color. They can no longer remember a time when they were not tangled in each other. They understand Hell and faith and waiting. They have no secrets. They are best friends. And although she is nineteen, he is not; has not been in a long time. It creates an interesting dynamic, she reasons, bringing one to one’s senses. It provides perspective. Or strips it.
When she thinks about eternity, he is always forefront on her mind. It would probably scare him if he knew. But he is tangled in the word, the way she is tangled in him. Would it be so bad, she wonders? Am I really so young?
She will try to reason it away. She is only nineteen, after all. But she won’t be forever, and he will still be there. And they would look so good in love.