Hopes Are High

Thank you to AngelsFallFirst for the cover!

Dear Diary,

Two years ago, I wrote that I would never love again. Well, apparently I couldn't, and never have been able to, keep that promise. I've been breaking it all along and never realized it until two days ago. And I only realized it then because I saw her again. My Tarja, my beloved, the woman who literally walked out of my life after a horrible fight that I caused. The woman who is in the dressing room right next door to mine. So close to me, yet so far away. I can't stand this. It's tearing me apart.

-F

It's twenty minutes till showtime, and where am I? Hiding in my dressing room. I'm dressed and I'm all ready to go, but I don't want to. I would rather hide in bed on our bus under the covers and not come out until we had reached someplace where she wouldn't be always nearby, always tormenting me. I love her so dang much, I'd give almost anything to have her back, but she wants no part of it. She's still hurting from what I did to her two long years ago. Aw, crap, I'm crying. I wipe my eyes very carefully so as not to smear my makeup, but the tears keep coming, and finally I just give up trying to stop them. Pulling my legs up to my chest, I rest my arms on my knees, hide my face in them, and let the tears flow. Before long I am sobbing, and I fail to notice when someone knocks on the door and then opens it, but they must have because all of a sudden there is a pair of arms around me and a warm body against mine. At first I'm not even sure who it is, then I catch a scent of strawberries and sunshine, and I know, and for some reason I start to cry even harder. She doesn't seem to mind, but instead just rubs my shoulders and strokes my hair. I cling to her, breathing in that sweet scent, finally starting to calm down. I sit up and wipe my eyes, but my fingers come away stained black at the tips, and I realize I am a total mess. She says nothing, but stands up and offers me a hand. Gladly, I take it, and she pulls me to my feet. Saying nothing, we walk over to the mirror. She points toward the chair and I sit down, feeling slightly worried because Nightwish is supposed to go onstage in about ten minutes and I'm not even ready. She quickly goes into the bathroom and comes back with a wet cloth which she uses to wipe the black streaks off my face. Then she helps me fix my makeup, and when she is done, I am pleasantly surprised to find that it looks even better than before. I stand up and turn to face her.

"Thank you, Tarja," I say softly. She looks up at me for a moment, and for just a second I think I see a bit of the old love in her eyes. Before I can stop myself, I wrap my arms around her. To my surprise, she hugs me back.

"It was a pleasure," she whispers. I look straight into her eyes, and there is no doubt about it. She looks like the old Tarja, the Tarja I fell in love with, that familiar sparkle once more in her emerald orbs. I take a chance and lean down to kiss her, but she suddenly stiffens and pulls away. "No, Floor, not yet." She turns and, for the second time in two days, walks away from me. But this time there is a spark of hope in my heart. She said 'not yet,' implying that someday she will be ready, just not now. I will wait for her, and one day she'll be ready, and when she is, I'll be here for her. And then nothing will tear us apart.