You got me trembling, shaking, praying. Maybe it’s just a nightmare and I’ll fall off the bed and wake up panting for breath. As I lay in my dark room, I know it’s going to get worse, much worse and it won’t stop until I explode. I will explode because it seems like my ears are ringing with screams that I’m trying to muffle in my head. It doesn’t stop. It doesn’t stop. It doesn’t stop. Please make it stop. Please make it go away. Only you can make it go away. I’m breathless from crying and my eyes are bloodshot as if I haven’t slept in ages. I haven’t slept in ages. Somehow it feels better to curl up into a ball like a fetus and hold myself and shut my eyes and sob.
But the pain. What of the pain? What of the trust?? The disbelief is humongous. The ashes. My ashes. How could you? I keep asking myself how could you? It was only you and now I don’t have you. It doesn’t end. The night goes on forever.
There are some things that you can never take back, never undo.
Three small pills. No wonder it takes you no time to go back into the trance where hoards of memories lay, where cherished dreams are scattered on dusty floors and where you can find your own reflection staring back at you in the mirror on the wall. Life wasn’t this way.
But let me tell you this: no matter how far away and out of reach you seem, I’ll always lend you a hand, even if I can’t figure out the boundaries of darkness and gloom. And even if I can’t fathom what you’re going through, know this honey, that I will always be here for you. We’ll go to bookshops and read books; watch TV shows in bed; drink coffee in the balcony while waiting for the sun to set; tell each other stories; go into little thrift shops in the afternoon and explore; drink smoothies at neat cafes and listen to our kind of music. And on those days when you won’t be so loveable, we’ll stay up, put our arms around each other and cry.
Just so you know honey, I love you so much more than just to the moon and back.