I remember the last time I saw it, all feeble and shrunken in the little box. It was trying to defy its fate, calling for justice with each fierce beating.
It’s been almost ten years. Most of the time, I am okay. I don’t feel it. I don’t feel the lack of it. Life is smooth and quietly unsurprising when it comes to that. I managed to learn smiling again, my anger faded and I learned how to care and how not to rely on what was now an empty spot in my chest. I am in peace with the wounded girl that chose the irreversible. She did that for me. I watch people doing what I will never be able to do anymore. I keep in mind that I chose it. I am okay.
Most of the time… but some days are bad days. Today was a bad day. It all started with a dream. An innocent dream of linked hands, shared smiles and warm complicity. It was Him. His hands, His smiles and His power to make the world feel alright in the sweet embrace of His arms. It was weird. Nostalgia, sometimes, makes me think about him. Not regret, nor envy. Whatever was to happen happened or didn’t happen and who we were, as persons and together, don’t exist anymore. Today was not the same.
Today started with a painful pinch where nothing should be able to hurt. Today started with a pulse where nothing should be able to beat. Today was to be one of those hollow days, a day with a bouncing echo, a poisoning presence and a haunting guilt unhealthily caressing the horrible hole, trying to open the ancient wound. One of those days when words and acts thought and done ten years ago would flash unexpectedly before my eyes and scrape the insides of my self, reminding me how empty it is.
It had been so long since the last time that the intensityof the pain surprised me. Then I felt it. The bitterness of the could-have-beens, the blood pouring from my aborted hopes and the revenge, the sweet triumph of ITS revenge over the mind that banned IT form ITS body.
Like a phantom limb, it would haunt me from the inside. It would devour everything and spread its emptiness. It would weigh on my breath, fill my thoughts with cold water and drown me in an unfading darkness. It would engrave its still being part of me on my aching skin, where my nails would dig deeper and deeper at every wave of the past it brought.
I would lie and let it overwhelm my mind. I would abandon myself to its torment, endure its torture and let the black tears flood away the lingering guilt, the accumulated hopes and the impossible dream of a redemption. Until the very last drop.