hells_half_acre: (oberreid)
[personal profile] hells_half_acre
I searched for you everywhere. I desperately needed to find you. It became a hobby, a routine, an obsession. I traveled great distances on the smallest of clues. I toured cities with my eyes constantly scanning the crowds of faces that were not you. The more I looked the more the colours and shapes blended, the more difficulty I had remembering how to recognize you as you and not someone else. I saw countless people, I learned languages when I could, and stumbled through broken tongues when I couldn't. I talked with many, but they hadn't seen you. They wished me luck in my search. They seemed to agree that it was important that I find you, though I never thought to ask why they felt that way. I don't know if they were feeding my desperation or simply taking their cue from it. I suppose in the end it doesn't matter. I moved on quickly and confidently in new directions each time, believing that in the next place, you would be there.

I touched everything I could. The importance of sense memory is far too often ignored. I felt the smooth marble and the warm stone. I have felt both the roughest and finest of sands slip through my fingers. The warmth of the sun on my face and the cool of a sudden heavy rainshower were welcomed equally, as I tried to imagine you welcoming them as well. Perhaps down the street, just out of reach.

There was always a time after I arrived somewhere that I felt I was close, but eventually that feeling would fade and I knew deep down that you had moved on. At that time, I would start searching the maps, the transportation routes. I would study the natural flow of people and try to picture you among them, lost in the anonymity of the crowds, another face blending into the faceless.

Slowly in the years that I searched, subconsciously as I fed my obsession, I lost track of the why. I left the answer behind in pieces unnoticed as I traveled. I was happy in my search, and did not miss the question or the answer. The search itself became the justification. 'I search because I must', and it wasn't until I found you that I realised that justification was not enough.

I did find you, eventually. I was shocked. You weren't in the crowded streets or in seclusion. One day you were simply there, beside me. The search for you was over and I was at a loss. I rejoiced, overwhelmed that everything hadn't been for naught. My shock was disheartening at first, I feared that I had given up hope unknowingly, I feared that my confidence had been a lie in the end, but that wasn't the case. I had always held hope, and my confidence had been real. The shock came not from the finding, but rather from what I had lost. That missing answer, now scattered from my footsteps by the wind.

All this time searching and I had lost the knowledge of what to do with you once I found you. I sat you in the corner and began to tell you of my travels. I told you of the faces that weren't yours and how over time they became simultaneously too distinct and too well blended. You listened patiently and recounted your own travels. We were amazed over the times we had been so close to each other, yet did not meet. We laughed at the times we had been far apart. I never asked if you had been searching for me as I remembered searching for you. I was afraid of the answer no matter what it was.

We stayed that way for a long time, sitting in the corners of each others rooms, collecting dust on a shelf like so many of the souvenirs of our collected travels. I tried to remember the reason for the search, but it was lost. I saw you sometimes in deep thought, and I wondered if you were trying to do the same. I could remember the rough sand hard and awkward under my fingernails. I could remember the cold marble smooth and cold against my skin. I could remember the sun's broken reflection in pools of rain. I could remember looking at faces that blended and could still hear them speaking distinctly. I remembered the search and the wonderful beautiful things I had seen, felt, and heard.

I was surprised one day, when the familiar feeling returned to me that you were far away. I could see you sitting there in the corner, a look of deep thought and a small smile on your face. The feeling remained, and I found myself subconsciously searching the maps, the transportation routes, and the natural flow of people. I asked you on that day, if you would join my search. I still remember the look of confusion on your face and the way it slowly dissipated into a slow smile. Yes, you said, and we began the search anew. I still had to find you and you still had to find me, and together we had to find ourselves and each other.

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