Lost and Found {SE One shot competition, entry #1}

Lost and Found

They always say that no matter how much you love someone, you can never love them as much as you can miss them.

I used to say they don’t know what they’re talking about.

That one night at the party, six years ago, when the notorious bad boy, the American cold-hearted gorgeous boy-whom I was so desperately in love with, may I add- Elliot Fintry said, though not in exact words, that he loved me too, something in me was reborn. 

That small spark, which was so mysteriously ignited along my not-so-long journey with that obnoxious boy who shared my name, was born again. 

I didn’t know what to call it, but when I looked into Elliot’s eyes that night, I found the right name; hope. That small, almost nonexistent spark was hope. Hope that Elliot would love me back. Hope that somehow I could reach out to him, and he would actually take my hand and let me save him from that dark abyss that he has gotten himself into. 

That spark of hope was lit again, and at that moment, even for the briefest seconds, I had made it a known fact that you can always love someone more than you can miss them.

But I stood corrected.

How?

When Elliot Fintry boarded that flight back to the U.S, I felt like I’m saying goodbye to a part of myself. Corny for such a tough girl like Elliot Jensen, huh? Well, even the hardest rock gets tired of being so at some point.

One year.

Two years.

Three.

And Elliot Fintry didn’t come back. 

Four years.

Five years.

Six.

And I’m letting that small spark quench.

I didn’t give up, no. But sometimes, you get tired of holding on to things that just won’t hold on to you.

Running after Elliot Fintry was like chasing the clouds. I would get so close to him, but just when I reach out to grab him, he slips right through my fingers.

However, waiting for Elliot Fintry was much harder; it was like waiting for rain in a drought. I would wake up every morning, and I would wait for him to show up at my doorsteps, even though, I somehow knew that it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

For six years, I have done the same. Wake up, hope, sleep, and dream. Then I would repeat the same process over and over and over again. But that has gotten me nowhere.

I had to believe that Elliot Fintry was not coming back. But I couldn't bring myself to believe that.

Damn that little spark that refuses to die.

During those 6 years, though, I have come to the conclusion that they were right when they said that you could never love someone as much as you can miss them.

Whoever 'they' are, they were right.

Missing Elliot Fintry became like breathing to me. It's always there, and I'm always doing it, and no matter how hard I try, I could never live without it.

Missing him was like adrenaline. It surges through me, and it keeps me holding on to the memories; it's a constant reminder that what I had with Elliot, no matter how small and futile it was, still exists. Somewhere in the back of my head and in the back of Elliot's head hopefully, what we had is still there, and it was never forgotten.

Missing Elliot Fintry was the oxygen to the small spark. It was the only thing keeping that spark from dying forever.

It took me some time, but I finally understand what they mean.