Hello there old friend,

It’s been a while since i last came for a visit. I missed you. I did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Today i felt the tightening of my chest, all too familiar yet different at the same time. There was no argument, no fight, no nothing; just weeks of wondering suddenly compacting itself into a lightbulb of unwelcomed realisation.

I have become a bird who’s wings have been clipped. Conditioned to never leave.

The light in my eyes, they have become weak.

And still I wonder, why haven’t you noticed?

But the truth is, my dear, you have indeed. Yet you keep quiet, unquestioningly brushing it off like this is how things are meant to be.

But things have gone much deeper than you realise. It isn’t as simple as it may seem for I now fear many things. Things I used to want so badly no longer appeal to me. I fear them like they are the plague and my caution grows ever much stronger. Dreams that used to be, now become nightmares that cling onto me.

And I often wonder if I have become that shadow I’ve always wanted to be.

Maybe the truth is,

I often dream of death,

Because death has already befallen me.

I am just waiting,

Waiting patiently,

For you to finally see.

It’s always the same dream.

The same white space.

The same white tiles.

And nothing else in sight.

It the middle, lies a girl; curled up in a ball, shivering, pale and naked, like a wilted flower left to stain that gleaming white floor.

I’m standing there, watching as always; as silent as a ghost, doing nothing but staring.

My heart aches at the sight.

It cries along with the ashen tear stained face of the child.

And so, I try to reach out.

But nothing happens as my arm goes right through.

It’s always the same dream.

Me watching me.

Knowing exactly who it is I am staring at, yet being able to do nothing else but only that.

Tonight, my dream shape shifts for the first time.

I realise it’s not a room of infinite distance anymore.

I’m in a room lit by some hidden white light that reflects the tiles as if they were luminous.

The strange thing is,

It isn’t really a room.

It’s a transparent white cube.

I’m now hovering over it.

Staring down at the shrinking figure in the middle.

Just staring, staring and staring as usual.

Except…

In an unusual turn of events, the girl suddenly trembles harder than usual.

And I watch as she finally moves from her position on the floor.

She’s crying for real this time.

The tears are streaming down her face like I’ve never seen before.

She pulls herself to one side of the wall and on her knees, she starts banging on the walls; calling out to someone, someone who can’t hear her or even see her. Who, it makes me wonder for I see nothing but a floating cube in a dark expanse of space.

Her voice is coarse, she’s choking on her own words.

And the pale white skin of her fists.

They are not longer white, but red and sore from her constant banging.

And then I see it.

There you lay, fast asleep and smiling in our bed. You’re covered comfortable in our sheets, oblivious to the realisation that nobody is lying next to you any longer.

But there she is, just inches from your face.

Screaming, crying, banging on the walls; trying to get your attention;

Only you can’t see her.

And then i wake,

And tears are streaming down my face.

And like my dream,

I am staring at you,

But you don’t see me.

Silent and hard, they stare back at me and in that split instance, i feel it all over again. That suffocating pain, both mental and physical; the painful tear of my heart being ripped apart even when i had thought it would finally stop beating.

We often try to convince ourselves of how numb we have become, but they never seem to be the truth in moments such as this.

And then we retract into a crying ball of mess; alone, in pain and then self loathing.

Sometimes we know the truth clearer than anyone else.

We listen to the words of others, the stories of others but in our heart we sense it perfectly well. Yet, day after day, we continue to live in denial of ourself and the characters that make up this awkward play of what one calls life.

Today i ached.

And a switch snapped inside.

But as twisted as fate would have it, what i desire most right now becomes unachievable without real sacrifice.

I just want to take my cat and go home.

But I can’t can I?

Am i here because of you?

Or because i don’t have the heart to abandon the one living being that continues to stay by my side and listens day in day out to my whimpers and dreams.

I hate this.

I hate how things have turned out.

And I don’t know what hope is or see joy in my glitter, rainbows and unicorns anymore.

Is this what you wanted?

To break the hopeful faith of a naive child who believed in love.

Or are you really so blinded to be unable to see.

There is no sparkle in my eyes.

There is no glow to my skin.

I am dying right in front of your eyes.

But do you even see it?

“When was the last time you spent a full 24 hours with me” I asked.

a silence reverberated through the room before a minuscule list of random days from the past weeks shot out.

“No. You had meetings…I wasn’t around…and the list goes on. You can’t even remember anymore can you?”

“Silence”

“Silence”

“Are you lonely?” he muttered before i felt the warm palm of his hands quiver as he fell asleep.

And then it struck me.

Is that it? Is that what it was all about?

Was I really lonely?

Or is it something else?

Can you feel lonely in a home where you never sleep alone?

Or is it the sort of loneliness that differs from just being around people.

I don’t know.

And I can’t tell.

But I’ve not smiled properly in quite a while.