Flashbacks consume my thoughts, as I time travel back to when I was me. When existence itself was a never ending stretch of jubilation, it was a state of euphoria because with you, there was no fear, you were my safety zone. I used to cry when I thought about life without you as if I knew but those tears were worthless, vacuous and premature, fearing nothing but possibility. That night, I was beyond restless, smothered by premonition and unease. It was impossible to distinguish between reality and eventuality, convinced that I was suffocating. I woke up, ignorant of the night that had just passed, it was a normal day. I called out to you, knowing that you were awake, the duties imprinted into your skull, never to be forgotten.
I loved to listen, to hear you speak about anything and everything. You said bye to me that morning, our customary routine. Your memories taunt my lucid dreams, deceive me, you tell me you're back for eternity and that life would go on as if nothing happened. I wake up contemplating how I’m going to tell everyone that you never really left and that it was all a lie. I wish it was a lie. Why can't it be a lie? Why is the truth so ruthless, why is reality so agonising? I often speculate whether it's you, trying to reassure me but you don't understand without you I am fractional, an extract of my own imagination, I no longer have the capacity or strength to be the individual I once was.
I find myself Sitting soundlessly in a room congested with people, the indistinct sounds of conversation circling my head. I inhale, as though I can take in their words, possibly even obtain answers to their perpetual queries. Their phrases fill up my lungs, circulating the thoracic cavity of my chest. I wonder if you observe me when I lose myself in the myriad of strangers. They don’t know of you and what you mean to me, I examine them knowing that I'll never see them again. It is the epitome of bliss, I feel as though you're with me, I laugh at your endless stories, the flickering incandescent glow in your eyes. Do you know that it’s you I’m imagining?
-Lostinsolitude
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