What’s the most time you’ve ever spent apart from your favorite person? Tell us about it.
A late work of fiction submitted to the prompt: My Favorite
It has indeed been a while since I saw her.
Curiosity may kill the cat, but never her. She watches and inquires. She roams around and discovers. She contemplates and inquires some more when she finds features unanswered. She explores both the tangible and the imaginary because from them she learns, no matter how small. There is always something.
Her desire to be acquainted with a myriad of those unfamiliar made her the jack of all trades, but the master of none. She manages to initially impress, but does not stand among the proficient. But that does not matter much too her because she needs to hop from one thing to another at her own pace, and that’s just what she wants in life: stories. To collect in the meantime of the short lifespan of every beings, she believes. To be passed on after clinging dearly to them so she could let go of life willingly.
Her inquisitiveness has not in the least harm her body, at least not in any way she minded. But it almost did her soul. Over time, she realizes she is easily estranged because it was her, not him, who possess such energy part of her identity should not, as arranged by the collective. Her constant need to move broke customs as well as acquaintances mid-blossoming to friendships. It starts to irk her, the “abrupt settlements” (the way she prefers it to be called). She cherishes the select few she is privileged enough to call friends and family, who greeted her the same way. Over time, she is aware of when to stop and when to pursue. She still struggles with every farewell.
She dreads the time it all becomes dark because she feels what constitutes her began taking a toll on herself as she ages. The pitiful looks unable to appreciate solitude as much as she does gets on her nerves at times she can only shake her head and sigh. Thoughts change, and that is fine by her, up until those she held dear to, either unintentionally or intentionally, try to drag her to unnecessary changes, which everyone actually had the power to reconstruct. But too few shares her opinion. She begins to ask herself whether it has ever mattered, the ideas and learning as well as the stories she collected. She concluded she doesn’t. So did everything else ended with her as she halted.
She became new, and not even traces of her old skin was left after it was shed clean. She stayed put and that was the last time I saw her.
It has indeed been a while since I saw her, and I ask myself, “Was she ever there?”