A New Hope, chapter 1
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Have you ever cared for someone so much that even when you think you want to let go, when you want to stop caring, deep down you're hoping, praying, that one day, by some miracle, history may repeat itself? And that this time, you won't make the same mistakes that caused it to end last time? I have...I do, right at this very moment. The pain is only just masked by self contained belief that he may still like me. But on the bad days, when I'm low, and I haven't got enough emotional energy to conjure up those happy beliefs or the memories that make up my dreams, I sit, and I let myself get slowly engulfed by the longing, nagging pain in the centre of my heart. Crying away the hours, daydreaming myself through the days, taking myself back to when I was last in his arms, or to the last time I saw his face, or heard his voice...
I walked into the packed disco hall, my eyes adjusting to the gloom, my ears tuning themselves to the booming music. I scanned the room, looking for him. Once, twice, three times I looked round the room, but no sign of him. No sign of his gorgeous grey eyes, sleek dark brown spiked hair, his typical punk attire. Then a figure appeared from a dark corner, walking towards me. He came up to me, wrapped his arms around me in warm embrace, and I melted into him. I lent my head on his shoulder, letting all the worries from the last few days drain out of me. I felt his lips kissing my shoulder, then moving up my neck and stopping before my lips. I gazed into his soul melting eyes, and returned the passionate kiss that he planted upon my lips. I relished the moment, and eventually pulled away. I sighed, and put my head back on his shoulder, as he pulled me closer and set us swaying to the music. At last, I felt safe again...
I opened my eyes, and for a moment I wondered where I was. Was I really back in his arms, or was I just lying in bed, reliving the moments that haunt me to this day. But when I think about the dreams, and when I everntually conclude that they are memories, I end up thinking about them even more during the day. Then I always realise, the dreams aren't memories, they are just simply my aching heart expressing what it wants. Surely, somewhere among the various images of me and him together, there must be one genuine memory, from when we were once together, almost over a year ago.
I walked into the packed disco hall, my eyes adjusting to the gloom, my ears tuning themselves to the booming music. I scanned the room, looking for him. Once, twice, three times I looked round the room, but no sign of him. No sign of his gorgeous grey eyes, sleek dark brown spiked hair, his typical punk attire. Then a figure appeared from a dark corner, walking towards me. He came up to me, wrapped his arms around me in warm embrace, and I melted into him. I lent my head on his shoulder, letting all the worries from the last few days drain out of me. I felt his lips kissing my shoulder, then moving up my neck and stopping before my lips. I gazed into his soul melting eyes, and returned the passionate kiss that he planted upon my lips. I relished the moment, and eventually pulled away. I sighed, and put my head back on his shoulder, as he pulled me closer and set us swaying to the music. At last, I felt safe again...
I opened my eyes, and for a moment I wondered where I was. Was I really back in his arms, or was I just lying in bed, reliving the moments that haunt me to this day. But when I think about the dreams, and when I everntually conclude that they are memories, I end up thinking about them even more during the day. Then I always realise, the dreams aren't memories, they are just simply my aching heart expressing what it wants. Surely, somewhere among the various images of me and him together, there must be one genuine memory, from when we were once together, almost over a year ago.
