The Escape

After a harrowing few hours of persistent swallowing of my tears, my throat lumped up, emotions took over my already overflowing heart, and I collapsed to the ground. As I entered my room, I could still see her laid on my bed, motionless and calm, blood trickling down her lips. I stood there numb, waiting. Waiting for all this to end, waiting for her to slap me and wake me up from this nightmare, swear at me for oversleeping yet again. I started pinching myself, to no avail. I could smell her living presence, haunting yet making me feel alive in this dark hour.

I could see her in front of my eyes, smiling at me and asking me to get up. I realized I was hallucinating. Or was I? Is mere material presence everything in this world? Does death even matter to your love, the evaporation of this earthly presence so significant to you, that you need time to heal? I was losing myself, contemplating to let myself go with her.

Alas, as sense prevailed, I understood it was all me, trying to escape from the vision of the disappearing smoke, and with it my disappearing urge to continue.

I then put myself and my emotions in a box, and threw it away into the abyss of memories.

I have never met myself since.