Something's Missing.
Title: Something's Missing
Rating: G, i guess
Summary: Title says it all, I think...
Disclaimer: don't own anything but my words.
AN: first thing I've written with Vam in mind. Done while bored/kinda depressed at 2 am XD pretty angsty. feedback appreciated :)
When people ask me if I believe in heaven or some kind of God, I never know how to answer. It is not so much a belief as a longing. It is not really faith, it is more like hope; a desperate, burning hope. It is the burning hope that every loss which reopened the old scars, every fresh wound and every tear has a reason.
It is the hope that fuels my countless unanswered prayers, if my whispered pleas into the murk of midnight can be called prayers.
It is the hope that weakens day by day for some kind of sign to keep me going, anything at all.
I do not understand how I can miss something I never had, but I do. I miss it when I wake up in a freezing sweat, knowing that some of the moisture on my face is tears, and shaking so hard my teeth click. I miss it when the sun falls onto my skin, and I can not feel its warmth as strongly as I once did.
Sometimes I fear I will never really be warm again.
Sometimes it is almost too much though, this gaping hole inside that screams to be filled. Sometimes I wake up and think there will be an actual hole in my chest, it hurts so badly.
What I miss is something I could have had, something that was once so near I could practically taste it. Now it is something that slips further away all the time. Sometimes I walk the streets at night to escape the walls that hold way too many memories of it, only to find that the streets are larger and hold even more.
Once, I used to talk to the stars, and I swore they answered. They spoke to me with the speech of the heart, but now their glowing voices are silent. Maybe I have gone insane, and crazy people can not speak to the stars. Or maybe I was crazy then, and all the pain devoured all the insanity to strengthen itself.
So I try to avoid answering when I am asked if I believe. I believe in a soul, because I have felt things that went much deeper than my bones. It seems so long since I have felt that burning, the flame inside that made me feel so alive. I become afraid that I have lost my soul somehow, but I know I have not because I still feel. What I feel now is a deep longing, regret and sorrow so strong I can feel it cut deeper with every beat of my heart.
A remnant of that life-flame still flickers, though. It is that last-ditch, desperate hope. I reason that maybe there is something more, because that something I miss does exist, even if not for me.
At least not anymore. Maybe it existed for me once, but I have long since lost it.
There are so many days that I want to give up, but I do not. There is just enough good left in this world to keep me from giving up. I wonder if that is proof of something more. Are all the little moments of beauty there to remind us not to give up, that somewhere in all of this there is hope?
I think maybe we make our own choices and lay our own paths; that the good is here to give us a reason to hang on and the evil to make us appreciate those moments and that reason.
I looked “hope” up in a thesaurus the other day and one of the results was “faith”. Does that mean faith is nothing more than a pretty name for this incessant, gnawing, longing? I do not know anymore. I think it is all just fancy ways of saying we are all lost and scared, trying to find our way.
I still miss that thing I never had though. That thing is your love. And I will whisper my weak prayers for it until I have no more breath to speak them with.