The night sky had always been my realm of peace, where I would go to seek solace and comfort. The way the entire world seemed at rest, except for the gentle whisper of the wind and an occasional call from an owl, filled me with such an immense feeling of wholeness and serenity. No matter what was happening around me during the day, at night I would always have a place to go, to collect my thoughts, and escape from reality.
My whole life, I was certain that the stars were specially placed in the sky as a gift solely for me, to remind me that no matter what trials I faced today, there was always tomorrow. My future was brighter and all my dreams seemed plausible by night.
In the city, however, it wasn't the same. Yes, I found love, adventure, music, and so much more, but that was nothing without the stars. In the day I could live happily and free, but at night my heart constantly ached with far more than the constant pang Geoffrey's abandonment left me.
I almost felt like I was betraying the skies living here. If the stars had indeed been crafted for me, the least I could do would be to enjoy them in all their indescrible ways.
After years of trying to set it aside and focus on my dreams become reality, the aching just worsened. Sometimes, it was so bad I couldn't make it through the day without at least one panic attack.
The panic attacks were becoming worse and more frequent the longer I went through life. They would come at the most unpredictable moments and usually without warning. The whole world would feel as if it was simultaneously crashing down on me and abondoning me. They would leave me feeling all alone, possessed with an intense sensation of fear causing me to sweat profusely and, in many cases, sob uncontrollably, unable to focus on the world around me. My chest would feel such pressure that breathing was a nearly impossible excercise. They rarely lasted more than a few minutes, but I didn't know how much longer I could handle it. I knew with my whole being that, in order to survive, if not from a sleeping prairie wilderness, I had to find a tranquil place somewhere to recooperate from a hard day -if such a place truly existed in the city.
My husband was a loving man, but he was just never able to understand my heartache. Surely he knew what it was like to lie on the wet grass late at night, entranced by the vastness and beauty of the universe, filled with ideas, inspirations, hopes and dreams. Like me, he wasn't born a stuffy city slicker. He had once lived a life unpolluted by bright lights and loud noises so he should know exactly where I was coming from. But he didn't.
Why we got married, sometimes I sincerely don't know. My husband is a beautiful guy sure, and he had always been head over heels in love with me, always at my beck and call, almost like a little puppy. I knew I could never return that kind of affection, that dedication. What I had for him was a simple enfatuation; I was enthralled by the mile-a-minute energy about him, his husky voice, his strong ambitions and his deep brown eyes, and I had been filled with a desperate need to move on.
When I was younger, I had always dreamed of a future in Los Angeles, living on the edge, pursuing an acting career, and having mindless affairs with fame hungry musicians. Now I wonder, why couldn't I have been content in my perfect little town with my perfect little life?
I remember the night my life started to burst at the seams as if were yesterday. I was only 17, Geoffrey was 18. We were lying on the grass silently together, staring up into space.
"Chrissie," he had whispered gently, his voice almost lost in the wind.
"Yeah?" I whispered back without even turning to look at him.
Then he sat up and I followed suite, confused, and a little afraid that he was going to go home. It wasn't even that late yet. But he didn't leave.
We just sat there in silence for what felt like eternity, but what must have only been a few seconds. Finally, Geoffrey pulled my chin inches away from his face and gazed into my eyes. I could feel his breathe on my face, but I wasn't about to close the distance just yet. I hadn't the slightest idea what Geoffrey was up to.
Then he muttered two simple words. Simple, yet heartbreaking.
"I'm leaving."
"What?" I asked, hoping my ears had somehow decieved me.
"I'm leaving," he repeated softly. "I'm moving to LA."
"What? Why?" Tears were already threatening to leave my eyes and I averted my eyes from Geoffrey's as I fervently fought them back. "It's me, isn't it?"
"No!" he insisted instantly, "Chrissie, you know I love you with my whole heart and soul. It's just..." he hesitated.
"It's just what?" I demanded, after the silence had gone on too long for my liking (in reality, it was probably little over a second).
"Chrissie," Geoffrey said, changing tones, "You're the dreamer. Didn't you always want to move to LA or at least some city? You wanted to try and make it as a singer or an actress."
"Yeahhhhh...." I dragged out the word, "In one year. After I've graduated. Can't you wait?"
He sighed and looked down again. "My aunt has cancer. She needs her family with her. We're leaving tomorrow."
"What?" My head snapped up. "Tomorrow? Do you even know your aunt?"
"Not really... But she needs her sister. My mom..." He trickled off and grabbed my face with his hands again. Even in the darkness I could see his gorgeous green eyes glowing into mine. Then he kissed me.
But this was different than our other kisses. There were no sparks and fireworks. It could have been my brain's way of processing what he had just said, but it tasted... sad. I quickly pulled away and studied my hands as best I could in the dark.
"I-I guess this is it then" I had muttered, trying to keep my voice even. I knew this was selfish and unfair.
Someone was dying and all I could think about was how I wanted Geoffrey by my side. But I couldn't help it. He was my first real love. And perhaps my only real love.
My tears could no longer be contained. I began to cry. Geoffrey and I must have said something after that, but all is lost to my memory. Eventually, he pecked me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, the last words I ever heard him say.
"I promise that one day we will meet again and make up for our lost time together."
With that, he was gone. And I was left a broken teenager with nothing but the stars for company.
"Tomorrow," the stars twinkled, "Tomorrow still has hope."
But I wasn't so sure.
I suppose none of that really mattered because I was here now. I didn't even know if Geoffrey still lived here. That was years behind me anyways. I would be stranded in Los Angeles forever, married to a struggling musician, seperated from all notions of peace and natural beauty. This was my life.
With that last thought, I finally drifted off to sleep.
YOU ARE READING
Forgotten Like The Stars - Oneshot
RomantizmI found this little piece from ages ago when I was browsing through some of my drafts. I'm not sure what my orginal intent was and if I planned on making it longer or what, but I kind of like it (ish), so I decided to publish it. It's a little roman...