The dreams that fill you and the things behind you force you forward, and you're running, running, running towards the future and you pray to God, or Heaven, or the Powers-That-Be, or whatever.
We hope to something, anything, that we will have some say in that future, some control. We want to fill up the spaces within ourselves.
We want to be happy.
We want to be satisfied.
But the dreams breathe real and you're still missing things. The filled-in goals gave you room to want more, or maybe you always wanted more but the bigger holes kept you from noticing the little cracks.
Fire burning and heart aching because there will never be enough, never ever ever. It's all replaced and when you have it it fades.
Unless you lose again.
Unless you're free-falling for a split second, or a moment, or a minute, and when you're caught again your breath comes fast and choking and you press a hand against the point where your rib cage meets itself and tell your heart to stop slamming against its bony prison.
Calm, calm, calm.
And you remember that you're alive.
Stay that way because you have reasons to stay. You have the dreams you built for yourself and you remember why you built them.
In your mind, you can run your hand over the frames you pulled out of tears and pain, and remember the beauty of them, and the glow is there.
A child's toy, won through pleading and wailing, abandoned some time after being acquired, struggle forgotten.
Until she is an older girl.
Until it is the last, and so an active reminder of what she has lost.
Too busy with the memories to dream of running away again.
YOU ARE READING
We'll Always Go On
FanfictionRose, living two years after the disaster of the Titanic, questions again if she must really keep living for a promise that already been broken.
