If you came back now, I would love you again
I am sitting on my floor, forgetting the pain
My promise will be kept, I keep waiting for you
If you came back today, I would love you again
Rain pouring down on me like a river
Absence of my self, avoiding the drama
Inner turbulences, pretend happy
No turning back, blooming underneath the rain
“Come to me…” She heard the whispered words again and again. She saw the hand reach out for her, and she tried to grab it. But it was in vain. Her fingers never touched the ones that were outreached to her. She saw the despair in his face and tried harder to get to him, but the last inch to be there, grab him and cling to him was always missing.
Startled, she woke up. Drenched in sweat and tears. She had had this dream so many times before, and each time it became more real and more intense. She wanted to be with him, that was all she knew and cared about. The yellow streetlights illuminated her dark room, casting gloomy shadows on the ceilings. It didn’t appease her. A storm was raging outside, and branches of the large tree in front of her window whipped against the glass. It made for a frightening soundtrack of the night. She laid down again and punched her pillow a couple of times until it had the desired shape and turned to the side. She never closed her eyes. They stayed glued to the window. She was waiting for him. She waited for the familiar shadow to appear.
“Come to me…” He whispered the words in her ear, trying to soak in her familiar scent. She was asleep and didn’t hear him. He reached his hand out to touch her, and she tried to touch him too, but it was to no avail. As much as he wanted to feel her skin against his own for one last time, it was impossible. He couldn’t hide the pain he felt, and he knew that she saw it. He tried harder to reach her, but the last inch to grab her and take her with him was always missing.
Her time hadn’t come yet. And until then, he had to wait and be patient. He visited her every night, but on one particular night every year, she could see him. He sat on the windowsill and listened to the storm while he watched her sleep with her eyes wide open.
She saw him. He sat on the windowsill with a smile on his face. Occasionally, he looked outside as if in deep thought and when his head turned back to face her, she thought she had seen a frown. This night, this particular night was always the same for her, and she loved and dreaded it alike. It was the night he was back, and her dreams seemed so much more real than every other day. Days prior to this particular date, she didn’t sleep, because she waited for him to appear. She wished he would stay longer than only that night, and she wished he would talk to her. Instead, he sat there and watched her. It was all a dream. A hallucination. That’s what they said. But she knew better. She knew better because she didn’t only see him; she felt his presence.
He smiled at her and watched over her. Occasionally, he looked outside, and it reminded him of that fateful day years ago.
He had been drunk after the party. He shouldn’t have walked home in his state, but he had also known that he was in no shape to drive. She had called him on his phone, and he had slurred that he loved her. He had wanted to see her and took a shortcut through the woods. It had been raining that night and dark. Really dark. He had started to run with an unknown urge to be with her and then, it had happened. He had fallen down a slope, and he had hit his head on a rock. When he had woken up, he had laughed because he had known that the fall could have killed him.
And it had killed him. I took him a while to realise that the lifeless body he had been looking at was his own. It had happened so fast. A bright spark had appeared, and light-tunnel had captured him. He had fought to stay and go see her one last time, but the force that had taken him from this earth was stronger than anything else he had ever experienced. He had made a deal with the invisible force then and there. He had stopped struggling and floated willingly up into his afterlife after negotiating one last wish; he demanded to be able to see and watch over her. And he did. He came back. Every year. Until the time had come to finally take her hand and take her with him.
The night was fading, and the storm was calming down. The shadows on her ceiling slowly vanished, but he was still there staring at her, and she kept watching him intently, trying to remember as much of him as possible. In her mind, she told him that she loved him and that she missed him. In her mind, she told him everything she couldn’t say out loud anymore. She didn’t react when there was a knock on the door. She knew what would be happening next. A chubby woman in a lab coat bent over her and pushed her hair out of her face. He smiled at her and waved, then he blew her a kiss, and she saw him say “I love you”, but she didn’t hear the words. She fought to push the nurse away, but she obstructed her view. When she finally moved, he was gone. The woman who had entered obscured the view to the window again and helped her sit up. She stopped struggling and fighting. It was all in vain anyway. They didn’t understand. They didn’t see what she saw.
“It’s time for your pills honey.” Two cups were put in front of her, and she obediently emptied them both before she opened her mouth to show that she had swallowed everything, just like she was supposed to do.
The nurse patted the patient’s shoulder and retreated. She key locked the door again once she was outside and sighed. Halloween was always the worst day for this patient. It had been five years now since she was with them and although she was better on most days, on October 31st, she was suicidal and had to stay in lockup for her own safety. She had never talked, but everyone knew about the events that had ended her in the mental institution. The nurse didn’t need to hear the details of the tragedy; she knew that only love could make someone lose their mind the way this woman had.
(written in October 2014. I would change many things about this story – more details, and the writing style is weird too, but there is potential in this couple of paragraphs)
Writing can be therapy, but in itself, it can be a cage
~ T E Morris
I run, and I run. My legs are burning. They are heavy as lead. But I keep running. I run towards the dark alley that is calling my name. An alley I would avoid at all cost every other night. Not now. Not tonight. You are calling me. And I have to find you. I need you.
“Come, Cathy!” I hear it loud and clear. And I keep running and running. Because I want to catch you. You are my safe haven. I need to find you. Your presence will give me peace. And I keep running towards the dark. And the unknown. Edged on by the hope to find you, my love.
“Come, Cathy!” And I want to come to you. But I can’t reach you. No matter how fast I run, you are never there.
“Come, Cathy!” It is beginning to be frustrating. Devastating. Desperation sets in. How can I reach you? And I run and I run. Until I can’t run anymore and I stop. Everything is dark. There is no sound. Claustrophobic. Empty walls are closing in on me.
“Are you there?” I whisper. It sounds like the loudest scream in this absolute silence. I can hear my blood pounding in my ears. And I realise that I am afraid. Fucking scared, actually. Of this silence. Of this void. Of this emptiness. Of you not being there.
“Are you there?” I whisper again. There is something cold and wet on my cheeks. Tears? And I can’t fill my lungs with enough air to breathe properly.
“Are you there?” I turn around several times. Turning in never-ending circles. I don’t know where I am — lost and confused. And I am so alone. And so cold. Cold and alone. Inside, and outside too. Lost in the dark. In the unknown. Inside my dream.
“Come, Cathy!” But I can’t do what you want me to do. I am not there. I am not real. Nothing is.
I wake up drenched in sweat. I remember the voice loud and clear. I know the voice. Your voice. My heart is pounding against my ribs, and I can still hear my blood’s flow in my ears. It makes me deaf to every other sound surrounding me. Around me, the bedroom is bathed in a red hue from the sun touching the closed blinds. “Come Cathy!” resonates behind my eyes, and between my ears. I don’t know what it means. I can’t remember a thing. Nothing that matters. And in my agitated state, it feels as if someone is watching me. I am at peace. I am safe. Because this is real, and you are not there.
Visit Paul; he is a fantastic blogger. Your time will not be wasted on his blog.
Not so sure about my blog… The stats speak for themselves, but… I’ll keep pestering and annoying you. Promised. 💜
Pushing those I love away when I am not well. I am sorry.
I am quiet. I am quiet because every word I say seems to be the wrong word. Every word? No, not really; and yet, it feels that way. My sister in law is angry because she wasn’t invited for dinner, and when she was, she declined the invitation. My work colleague is irritated about the way people talk with each other, but her tone is not the friendliest either. A former colleague came to visit the nursery; she spoke with everyone but me.
These are not subjective things; these are facts. And it makes me sad. I don’t understand it. I am not a bad person, but where I am involved socially, drama is happening right now. Even if I am just a bystander. My sisters on law are fighting. My team is breaking apart. I am ignored… And honestly, I can’t take it anymore.
I used to say that I love my job and my place of work… I still love my job, but the team sucks. Grown people are acting like toddlers.
And I am just tired. I can’t write. I am useless. I can’t hold a team together. I can’t meet any wishes… I can’t be.
But hey… If you ask “How are you?” I will answer that I am a bit tired because I am working so much, but everything is fine.
It is a lie… But who cares?! No one should care, nor worry.
I am not asking for solutions and understanding. I am not asking for attention… I am just tired of being. Sometimes I wish I was not. Sometimes I think it would be easier not to be.
1. What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Love, health, humour, no stress
2. What is your greatest fear?
3. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
4. What is the trait you most deplore in others?
5. Which living person do you most admire?
6. What is your greatest extravagance?
My entire existence
7. What is your current state of mind?
8. What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
9. On what occasion do you lie?
10. What do you most dislike about your appearance?
Double chin and hair where it doesn’t belong
11. Which living person do you most despise?
No comment. I don’t hate people
12. What is the quality you most like in a man?
13. What is the quality you most like in a woman?
14. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Gell (equivalent to “you know?!”, mega, awesome
15. What or who is the greatest love of your life?
16. When and where were you happiest?
15th September 2015
17. Which talent would you most like to have?
Playing an instrument
18. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
I wouldn’t be so hard on myself all the time
19. What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Being alive and more or less well
20. If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?
A dog, because of my daughter’s love dogs
21. Where would you most like to live?
I am happy where I am. Though, living somewhere warmer would be alright too
22. What is your most treasured possession?
A little green frog, my son, bought for me at a fair.
23. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Finding not the slightest ray of light in the dark
24. What is your favourite occupation?
Listening to music
25. What is your most marked characteristic?
Calm and kind
26. What do you most value in your friends?
27. Who are your favourite writers?
I don’t really have any, but I like Caroline Kepnes’ novels ” You” and “Hidden Bodies”, I also like German writer Sarah Kuttner
28. Who is your hero of fiction?
29. Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Never thought about it
30. Who are your heroes in real life
Working moms who get the job done
31. What are your favourite names
Olivier, Giulia, Amalia
32. What is it that you most dislike
Disloyalty, condescending people, chewing noises
33. What is your greatest regret?
I don’t believe in regrets
34. How would you like to die?
Quick, painless, young
35. What is your motto?
Everything happens for a reason
(As seen at the blog zaroff)