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“Thanks dad”
“You’re welcome, Rock Socks. If you need anything else, just give us a call or send us a message. We love you.”
“Love you too.”
Socks hung up, the silence of the room leaving her alone with her thoughts. She was in her senior year of Uni. Her last year before she would go to grad school. Yet despite this being an “important milestone” in her life, it didn’t really feel that significant. She understood that she needed to get ready for graduate school and was preparing for it, but her life didn’t feel that different from how it did 2, even 4 years ago. Not that it was an entirely bad thing, she maintained friendships with many of her old secondary school friends and was confident she was on track to find a well-paying job, but she found herself getting bored a lot more frequently, and she hadn’t made any progress… where she really wanted to.
She sighed as her mind drifted back to this subject again, a feeling of numb resignation overtaking her.
She chuckled and walked over to her door, opening it to look out at the night sky, lovingly dotted with twinkling stars all across it. She smiled as she reached out towards them, in a vein effort to swipe one out of the sky and hold it in her paw.
In a way, her unknown lover was a lot like one of those stars. Bright and beautiful, perfect to look at and write about, yet thousands of light-years away. But unlike stars, it wasn’t impossible to get to one. Other people had found their stars in the night sky. Her parents, aunt Chilli, and aunt Frisky had all found their stars. Muffin had circled a few stars and was well on her way to finding her ideal match. But poor little Rock Socks had always been stuck in Earth’s orbit. A beautiful view to be sure, but one that kept her from shooting out into space. Finding her star. Many would dispute this idea. They tell her that she’s too young to come to this conclusion. That she has her whole life ahead of her. That there’s no deadline. That she has a good personality and deserves to find her match. That “there’s always someone out there for everyone.”
Her personality guaranteed her nothing. She knew plenty of good people who were suffering, people she wished she could give the world, but could do little but try to reassure them as the world burned down around them. Why should the cosmos be any nicer to her.
They didn’t know when she was going to pass on. When her life would come to an end. When her only chance at finding love would be gone. She did have a deadline, and that deadline was death. A time that only the heavens knew.
“There’s always someone out there for everyone.” She had no doubt that there was someone out there she could match with. But like the stars, they were simply out of reach. She hated the idea of using dating apps. Going to bars or concerts or anything social. And what were the chances she would find anyone at graduate school or work? She didn’t like engaging in small talk with her fellow students and whenever she did get over her paranoia and get to know them better, the semester would be over, and she wouldn’t have classes with them anymore. For years she had sat at social events she didn’t want to go to. Silently praying for her match to engage in conversation with her, to finally have that spark that would save her from her loneliness. But that wasn’t how that worked, and she knew it.
With a heavy heart she looked up at the stars with a melancholy expression on her face and a heavy feeling in her throat.
The only thing she could conclude is that it simply wouldn’t happen. Her star would sit out there, shining its unknown beautiful light from the cosmos.
A light she would never be able to recognize.
A form she would never be able to hold.
Lips she would never be able to kiss.
If by some miracle, someone caught her eye or tried to ask her out. She would give it a shot if it didn’t feel awkward. But she couldn’t let this lovesickness drive her insane. And the only way to prevent that is to let go.
So, with a heavy heart, she waved to the stars one last time, before turning away, and closing her door.