To The One I Haven't Met

Chapter One - The Story That Never Began

This is the true story that has not happened. This is the song that has not been sung. And this, this is the whole of my heart. My name is Destiny, welcome to my love story, and his. Chance. My Chance. Our Chance.

It was just another morning for Destiny, she didn't quite wake up, she'd just not slept, again. There wasn't anything unusual about that. Her port window cast an orange glow on the wall. The light rain on the autumn leaves gave her just enough aesthetic air to spark a bit of a smile. Just a few more minutes until her alarm was set to go off. 5 am, work must go to work. Beep beep beep! Chance threw his blanket off of his head, revealing his messy brown-black hair to absolutely no one. He rubbed his eyes and sighed as he looked at the clock. Too early, way too early. He reached for his mp3 player and put in his earbuds. Destiny turned on her pre-work playlist and the two, in their separate rooms, in their separate homes, in their separate lives, began to dance like idiots. It was an energetic cheesy 80's song that one could not avoid moving to. The groggy boy spun around his room, pretending all of the pictures on his wall were his audience, The girl was moving her head around and making rediculous gestures with her arms. Her audience was her favorite singers, and her sketches scattered all over the wall along with her small accomplishments represented by papers. Toward the end of the song, Chance got on his knees and started serenading the vintage poster on his door of an adorned male singer from the early days. Without warning, the door opened, and standing there was his mother. He pulled out his earbuds and quickly stood up, awkwardly standing shifting from one leg to the other. His mom, Stephanie, put a hand on her hip, giving him a suspicious and amused expression.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Nothing, I uh, thought I dropped...lost...something," the boy replied with a bit of a crack in his voice and a smile that admitted defeat.

"Uh-huh, yeah, me too, breakfast, five minutes," Stephanie countered with an almost laughing grin before closing the door.

Chance shook his head and spun around just a little bit embarrassed, but he knew this was the kind of thing his mom was used to with him.

Used to. Could I ever get used to you? Could I ever be granted the opportunity to take you for granted? It's strange the way we get used to oxygen when we know damn well that it is the reason we live. How privileged are we to be allowed the luxury of getting used to breath, knowing someday it will stop, knowing many are deprived of it. Could I get used to you? I suppose we get used to many things because the thought, the reality that it might someday not be there, is too much to carry, and could stop us from living at all. With the eternity our love holds, I don't think I will get used to you. Not because you will fall away from our bond, but because we are everything, ever-changing, and yet steady, like a waterfall that never runs dry but changes intensity and direction ever so often, always beautiful. I could get used to not getting used to you.

Destiny frantically scrambled to check off everything on her work checklist, it seemed like she was always forgetting something. She made lists for her lists, a list for her list of lists and an extra one on her phone in case she lost those. On these lists, you could find the most ridiculous things numbered.

1. Pen

2. Pen in case the other pen stops working

3. Pen in case the other two pens stop working

She always overprepared for everything and yet always seemed to forget something. When she'd attempt to be a bit less paranoid that something would go wrong, she'd get adventurous and bring only one, which, really would stop working. Then it happened, she spilled coffee on herself, right on her shirt and pants. This was a very Destiny thing to do, clumsy and untimely, sounds about right. With no time to wash her pants and them being the only ones she had for work, she made a desperate attempt at dignity and tried to blowdry them. She came out of the bathroom and looked at her mom, Ann, who'd watched the whole thing happen.

"Can you tell?" she asked knowing the answer already, but hoping she was just being hyperaware as usual.

"No, I don't think anybody will be paying attention anyway," Ann replied with a compassionate almost pitying look that she'd most probably hoped Destiny didn't intercept.

The girl sighed, there was nothing she could do about it at this point, she was already going to be a few minutes late due to spending more time on writing letters than actually getting ready. On the way there her chest would feel gradually tighter, and the sinking feeling in her stomach would get deeper. She was in a constant state of being used to feeling the way she did. Heart attack? No, just anxiety. Am I dying? Nope, anxiety again. After so many years of being chained to the beast, she'd become accustomed to accepting this was just the way it was, and might always be. It's just a feeling, it's just being exhausted all of the time, because you see it feels like you have to run, and scream, and die, but you can only stand there, and pretend you're fine because to do anything else would be to frighten or disturb those around you. But this, this was just pre-anxiety as she called it. It was just the rolling of thunder before the storm hit. It was like being spotted by a tiger, and you're frozen until you have to count to 10 and run for your life and hope it doesn't catch you, but instead, there isn't any running, you're just frozen while it comes closer and closer. Until it either devours you or by some miracle walks away to snack on you later.