It's 1:44, and yet again I'm thinking, this number will never not remind me of us. Back then, every little sign, every synchronicity I noticed, every little extraordinary moment I perceived was a miraculous reminder that we will happen. Because how couldn't we? We are twin flames, we are meant to happen. How could that passing car with plate number 444 not mean that we will happen? How could I not think "Of course" when I see his name plastered on a huge projector screen in a random building I just walked into? How could it not mean that everything is aspiring to bring us together? How could I not think that there must have been a reason we both ended up in the same foreign country, at the same place, at the same time? How could I not think that when touching you awakened my sleeping soul and it never stopped awakening?
It's 1:51 and the magic is gone. It's fine, I'll just wait for the next one, the next time, the next sign. You follow me around, anyway, it's not like I have to look for these moments. You hang above my head, like storm clouds, and like mist you surround me to veil my vision, so I can't see anything clear. I only see what I want to, and that includes you. It's 2:06, and that's okay, 2:22 is almost here. That means we are still a thing, we still have a chance, we are still happening. How could we not? And no, this is not hope. This isn't hope, because then what's the point of all this? Time is ticking, cars are passing by, life is happening all around me for a reason, and you are still not here to witness it with me. Hope is useless, and we don't need that anyway. Hope is meaningless because our bond is eternal... I don't need a reminder of that.
It's 2:16, and hope is all I have right now. It's quiet in the night, as I'm laying in my bed, as I assume the world is asleep around me, and I can only wish that time doesn't stop. I have nothing else to hold onto right now. I can only pray that nothing can stop seconds and minutes from passing, and nothing can stop us. Back then, I thought everything was a sign of 'us,' that we are forever and ever, that we are immortal and never-fading. Not me, not you, but us, together. How could I not have thought that? A connection as strong as ours, it's a given. I was practically told.
Now it's 2:22 and I'm alone in my bed. The empty space next to me is screaming your name, and not a sign of hope anywhere around me. Just this little number in the right-bottom corner of my laptop screen to remind me of empty promises. The mist is darkening, but it's okay, I'm not scared of the dark. I want to tell you how much I hate you for making me a believer, delusional, and so hopeless. I wish you would fade away too, along with passing seconds and minutes, along with speeding cars, along with my tears. Now I'll never not be reminded of you, because I made you my whole universe. Everywhere I'll ever look, you will look back, and how could I not think that means something? It must. Because even if I would never see a sign in my life, ever again, I would still believe that we happened for a reason. Even if the space next to me stays empty forever, or someone else will fill it up, I know who we are. Immortal, and never-fading.
I glimpse at the time: it's 2:42. Something passed, and something's coming. I think this is what hope feels like.
