I took one final look at the house on the hill before I turn to leave. He didn’t know that I came back here for a little while. I tended to our lush garden and the house while he was away, or gone for good to be specific. I had gone back to Earth to tell him I’d fallen head over heels for him, but my words were just pointless. He told me that our time was over, that he had moved on long ago and he was busy chasing his heart. I came back here soon after he let me down, determined to think things over. I stayed in the house on our planet for many years, trying to get over him. At first, nothing seemed to work. Everything would remind me of how our lives could have been, but as the years went on the love I previously had for him grew faint in my heart. I let him go in those final years on our planet. It happened quite randomly one day while I was stargazing. Usually when I looked up at our beautiful night sky, I remembered all the times we spent together, but this particular time I wept for home. I wept for my foolishness, and I wept for how easily my love for him left my heart. Which brings me to preparing the ship to return to Earth. I took a few apples for the trip back, but other than that I left everything else. I walked around the house one last time, glancing at all the pictures we took that framed the mantle above the fireplace. My heart would squeeze at the sight of them years ago, but now all I could do was smile. My seventeen year old self would always be pining for him at fourteen, and at fourteen, he would always be pining for fifteen year old me. We were in the wrong year for each other, and now I’d accepted it. I closed the door to the house, glancing up at our beautiful sky one last time. I boarded the ship and set it on course for Earth. It would be as if I never left in the first place. It’s a funny place our planet was. The trip didn’t take very long. Our rocket had been past the technology of our time. I kicked back and put the ship on autopilot, closing my eyes. And I waited.
The ship landed with a jerk, sending me awake. I rubbed my eyes, wiping the sleep from them. The ship had landed in the warehouse where we used to keep it. I climbed out of the cockpit and locked up the building, probably for good. Luckily, my car was still parked right outside. I had almost forgotten that our planet could go through a million years, but Earth would only go through mere seconds. It was an instant trip. But my mind had aged. My heart grew weary for home, and for time. I never thought I’d miss that. Not one bit. I got in my car and raced over to the place I had left, eager to prove I’d gotten over him. I pulled up in the parking lot, knowing that he’d be here. When left for the planet, it was during a rehearsal. Only five minutes had passed. I gingerly opened the door, and a curious sense of nostalgia hit me hard. I hadn’t seen this place in many years, but I really hadn’t even left in the first place. I walked into the Big Room and he was just getting off stage. My God, he looked so young, or maybe I just felt old. I stared at him, but no feelings overwhelmed me. They were just a whisper of the past. His eye met mine and of course he knew where I’d been. A smile formed on his lips. It wasn’t quite happy, rather it was a little melancholy, full of bittersweet memories. It was an aged smile of a young man who knew too much for his time. "Our time is over," I whispered low in his ear. And miraculously enough, we tilted our heads back and laughed merrily together. Our friendship had just peaked one million years. We’d gone through the impossible and made it to the other side alive. I didn’t love him anymore. The deed was done. Our time was really over, and I never thought I’d be able to say it, but I’m happy we’re friends. Just friends.
“The time would not pass. Someone was playing with the clocks, and not only the electric clocks, but the wind-up kind, too. The second hand on my watch would twitch once, and a year would pass, and then it would twitch again.
There was nothing I could do about it. As an Earthling, I had to believe whatever clocks said - and calendars.”—Kurt Vonnegut (Slaughterhouse-Five)
There's Just Too Much Philosophy Behind This Paper
My mind is swimming with too many angles to take on this. The Tralfamadorians belief of fate and free will. What exactly is it? Free will is unique to the Earthlings because everyone else in the universe knows better. And yet, there really is no such thing as free will because of fate. The Universe will be destroyed and Earth will have nothing to do with it. The Tralfamadorians blow it up experimenting with new fuels for their flying saucers. One of their own test pilots presses the starter button, and the whole Universe disappears. So it goes. And Billy Pilgrim, the curious Earthling unstuck in time, asked if the pilot could simply choose not to press the button. The Tralfamadorians looked at him in disbelief, simply stating that the pilot has always pressed it, and he always will press it. Fate plays a key role in the novel. Billy Pilgrim catches onto this and decides why bother trying to change anything when destiny already fixed it so that it will happen. Think of all the things he could have done. He could have not gotten on the plane that crashed, he maybe could have even saved those people who died in the crash. He certainly wouldn’t of married his wife Valencia Merble, but since he had already seen it time traveling, he let it go and led himself straight into his future life. He could have even stopped his own death, but why bother when fate exists? To this race, time is a straight line. One may be dead in this moment, but look at all the other moments one is alive! "Ignore the awful times, and concentrate on the good ones."
It’s a desolate location. The snow blows too hard for you to see even a foot ahead of you. But no matter the conditions, you must keep moving forward. White wolves appear from the blizzard, their red eyes gleaming through the oncoming, thick snow. The goal is to not get eaten, or seen. You trudge your way through the harsh winds, the freezing temperatures, only to find a steep cliff blocks your way. There’s no way you can climb this in your natural form. You call upon the help of your shadow. She sends every fiber of your body into the air, rearranging them into that of a new form: A wolf from the twilight. On all fours, you leap through the snow, scaling the mountain that looms before you. The cold doesn’t seem to bother you so much anymore. Snow melts off your pelt, and a gust from behind you sends your feet flying faster and faster until you reach the top of the cliff. The clouds don’t seem as thick up here. Your eyes search for some shelter as night continues to fall. A small opening in the cliff wall catches your attention, and you crawl in for the night, nuzzling your snout into a bed of pine needles some other animal must have put down. As dawn breaks, sunlight enters through the hole you’ve created. You continue your journey through the cave, and once you’ve made your way through the winding caverns, you come to a new hole. You squeeze your way through it and come to the top of the mountain, where the air is brisk and the sun shines down with a heavenly warmth. A single tree looms overhead, reminding you that even in the most desolate of locations, life touches every thing.
“Just for future reference, don’t use words like “love” anymore. It’s a very sensitive word and it wears out quickly. Romeo barely says it, but John Hinckley filled up a whole journal with it. To put it into your terms, it’s a currency that’s easily devalued. Pretty soon you’re saying it whenever you hang up the phone or whenever you leave. It turns into an apology. Then it’s an excuse. Some assholes want it to be a bulletproof vest: don’t hate me; I love you. But mostly it just means—more. More, more—give me something more. A couple of years from now, when you’re on your own completely, if you really fall in love, if it really comes to that—and I pity you if it does—you have to look right down into the black of her eyes, right down into the emptiness in there and feel everything, absolutely everything she needs and you have to be willing to drown in it, Kevin. You’d have to want to be crushed, buried alive. Because that’s what real love feels like—choking. They used to bury some women in their wedding dresses, you know. I thought it was because all those husbands were too cheap to spring for another gown, but now it makes sense: love is your first foot in the grave. That’s why the second most abused word is “forever”.”—
He works at the Manchester plant of the company my dad works for. I want him to say rubbish for me tomorrow. But we had a darling chat about all the wonderful things in Europe and how I definitely want to visit London this summer. My dad says it’s a possibility. I fell in love with this city.
On the plane ride here, I’m pretty sure the flight attendant thought my brother and sister were my children and that I was about twenty-five. He kept asking me if I wanted champagne or wine. Not that I’d take it anyways. And guess how cultured my family is? Our first meal in Spain was pizza. But it was rather tasty. THIS HOTEL HAS A ROOFTOP POOL. And this country is chock full of cute boys. And attractive women for that matter. Oh, and my first purchase here was styling gel because I forgot mine in the car, of all places. Not even at home… But in the car.
And realized I didn’t care as much as I thought I did. I wrote a story and realized my character’s thoughts were my own. So, goodbye Shamron Haysius. I won’t be gazing up at your starry night sky again. I left everything in the house and I won’t dare go back. The flow of time has returned to normal at last. We can go on living.
It will be gone. I’ve started walling myself in. No tears were shed. The only sound that left me was my breath, in and out. From now on, that’s all that’s going to happen. No tears, no sad face. Just breath. Just my own breath.