Acting On Love

I lay in bed that night, having spent the whole day in that exact position. I stared out of the window, watching the rain hit the branches of the tree just outside. My tears had dried up hours ago. I didn't even feel hungry from not eating anything. What good would food do me now, anyway?

In fact, I began to realise that it wasn't only hunger that I didn't feel. I didn't feel anything. I felt hollow inside. I felt like my insides had been scraped out and burned. I was empty inside.

I saw the entire performance of the sky - I watched the sun as it reached the top of the sky, and then sunk back down, behind the horizon, leaving the world to darkness.

The sun was gone. And so was Ville.

It still didn't sink in, though. I don't think it ever really did.

Would I ever see him again?

I told myself not to think like that, although I knew the answer. I just refused to believe it. And so the thoughts continued:

Would he move on from me. . . would he forget me, and leave me only to the memories in the back of his mind? Because I knew that I couldn't do that. I couldn't ever forget about him. My soul belonged to him, wherever he was. Whether he was on a plain, that took him across the ocean that would separate us for however long, or whether he had already returned to his country. . . wherever he was, my soul would follow. And until I could finally, one day, forget him - or find a cure to the pain - I would have to learn to live without it.

That is, if living was possible like this. . .