It’s been nine months…
Since they left me
It’s been nine months…
Since the rain swallowed me whole
It’s been nine months…
Since I lost myself
…
I am yet to be found.
~ ~ ~
I’m afraid to go outside, for fear that I’ll see their shadow in the alleyway. I’m afraid to laugh, for fear that their ghost will acknowledge my presence. I’m afraid to feel. What is there left to feel, anyway?The space I occupy feels borrowed, like a library book long past its due date. My voice in a room is a stone dropped into a well with no bottom—no splash, no echo, just an endless fall. My heart beats, a stubborn clock in an abandoned house, ticking for no one. Is this…alive?
Am I alive?
What is your definition of being alive?
Is it being able to function, to breathe, to wake up each day?
Or is it to smile, to be able to look in the mirror, to go out with friends?
Friends.
That is a concept I no longer understand.
Everywhere I go, I hear their footsteps. I see their face. I feel their hand in mine. Whenever my phone buzzes, my heart leaps, hoping beyond hope that it’s them. But no. They’ve left me behind. I sometimes see pictures of them with a new love. I…don’t know how I feel about that. All I’ve ever wanted was for them to be happy.
Do you understand that?
Does any of this make sense to you?
Or am I just rambling about emotions that should be kept in the closet?
In the closet…
I have too many skeletons in the closet.
It’s not my closet.
No.
It’s the closet.
The closet of forgotten dreams, youthful delusions, and…love.
Love.
Another concept I no longer understand.
Where was I? Oh, yes.
Am I alive?
I don’t know.
I’m breathing.
But I’m not feeling.
Every part of my being is…numb.
Was it always this cold?
Was love always this painful?
No.
I remember it being…warm.
Safe.
Accepting.
Joyful.
But now all I have are dull memories…
Crinkled and burned at the edges
Like a vintage photograph
Treasured but long gone
But did I love them
Or did I love the concept of love?
That question often keeps me up at night
…
One of the reasons why I can’t bear to look in the mirror
Is…
Well…
I often hide the truth from myself
Whispering that I did nothing wrong
That they broke my heart
That I have a right to feel this way
To shut everything out of my life
But…
Deep down…
I know that’s a lie
My soul knows it’s a lie
My reflection seems to scream at me
“Wake up!”
No.
“Wake up!!”
No!
“WAKE UP!”
I bolt upright, breathing shakily. My body is trembling and drenched in sweat. Outside, it’s raining heavily. Just like that day so many months ago…
I look to my right and barely swallow a scream of terror. Blood. So much blood. And it’s coming from…
I glance down at myself and see the gaping wound in my stomach, and for one dizzying second, I can smell the damp concrete of the alleyway. I look up just in time to see…
Them.
Oh my god, it’s them!
Except…
I can’t tell if they’re standing in my room or in a forgotten memory. They have a horrifying look on their face, their eyes wide and unblinking.
And in their hand is…
A knife. Is it in their hand, or is it still buried inside my soul?
My eyes fly back up to this monster’s face and my mind manages to process a single train of thought as I gaze deep into their being.
It’s been nine months…
And they still haven’t forgotten about me?
Is this love?
Or obsession?
Was any of it love?
I fall back down onto the mattress, feeling a huge weight crush down on my chest. Despite the suffocating agony, I feel a smile spread out on my lips. I’m going to die today. But I finally knew the truth. Obsession. Not love. A peaceful darkness envelopes me like a cocoon and I begin to float in a cold void. It’s…quiet. And comforting. Like the “love” I fell for. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. But did I die for nothing?
That all depends on how you look at it, doesn’t it?
Because in my eyes, my life had just begun.
~ ~ ~
It’s been nine months…
Since they left me
It’s been nine months…
Since the rain swallowed me whole
It’s been nine months…
Since I lost myself
…
The lie is over
I am found at last.
The Roar 