The Journey
By Dana Quell

Three years ago, we began a journey together we both swore would last forever. Funny the things you swear on when you're young and full of ideals.

Now, I'm a little more cynical about the world, a little more pragmatic, and you... well, you're hallucinating. Who'd have thought we'd be here? Certainly not our past selves. No, our past selves were dewey-eyed with the possibilities of the future, looking towards new hopes and dreams that we now know could never be true.

Perhaps it was just never meant to be. Perhaps things like what you and I had were only meant to survive in faery tales written by rabbits. Rabbits... scared of everything.

No, if that were true, it never would have been in the first place. So perhaps they were meant to exist but become extinct later, years later, after everything has been said and done. We are dinosaurs to each other.

Life is the true story Gilda Radner spoke of -- no real beginning, middle, or end. It can't ever have a happy ending, because it never had a true beginning. We had a beginning, you and I, blurred in between the lines of our other lives. But our ending is clearcut. There is a line through the day we ended, and its caption reads "Here lies the denouement".

Life is written by rabbits.

And now the only thing I have left of the journey are memories: fragmented, shattered, disjointed. The few tangible things you gave me remain with me -- a ring here upon my finger, a useless plush momento there on my chair -- but the memories already begin to fade. These things are all I have left, now. They're all I've been left with.

Three years ago, we began a journey together we both swore would last forever. Funny how you don't know how long forever really is when you're young and full of ideals.