I wandered day and night, partly hoping to see someone else but the death angel.
For the first time, I was afraid to see him again, not that I wasn't. Setting foot in this seemingly foreign land was taunting, meeting him was next. It was as though waking up in this world is a normal thing and I'm the only being who doesn't have a clue.
He has been here for a long time and I just came a few days back. I'm being too hard on him for nothing. I can't trust just anyone. I don't even trust myself because nothing is known. I am too ignorant, not just innocent.
I always think of death itself, haunting myself of a missed life and a trapped soul in this. Have I succumbed to death?
"I can't," I said indignantly, as if talking to someone else and not to myself. I fixed my eyes on the throng of people. "I don't want to..."
It was almost inaudible. I intended to not let anyone hear it but I waited for someone to answer my obviously declarative statement.
Enviously, I stared at each one of the strangers in front of me.
It seemed like a movie and I was the lead. Everyone was in slow motion in my eyes. I was now in the middle of the sea of people, wanting to cry but no tear materialized.
This was New York City but now a distant place I was able to forget its feel because I am trapped in a cold outer world instead of by people crowding the streets.
Indeed, crying inside is possible. I churned inwardly.
I shut my eyes in deep contemplation and breathed a heavy sigh. "I want to go back alive."
The underlying message of this impasse, I would want to know.
I aimlessly walked between strangers, forgetting I can actually walk through them. I was in a reverie of a forgotten past, of something I almost completely buried and yet the pain still ran deep. It was worse than before.
Why am I here?
It was the foremost unanswered question. Curious was an understatement. Trying to understand, probably to remember, I bowed my head.
It was almost night time. These days, I don't even know who I am. I eyed someone through my lashes as he walked his way toward me.
He was beside me in a matter of seconds. I side glanced at him. "You're here," he said, more like confirmed.
I stilled in his presence. I couldn't bring myself to speak but unspoken words are better heard. My emotions were almost palpable.
I was taken aback with the rushing blood to my cheeks, a burning feeling of what seemed to be mixed emotions of animosity and familiarity. We weren't friends, not yet acquaintances, but we were getting to something.
"I didn't know finding someone would be this easy."
I was that transparent.
I don't want to regret talking back. I wanted to have a peace of mind. I wanted to stay away from anyone.
"I'm sorry about last time," he continued. "What are you doing here?"
The tone in his voice seemed brotherly. I smiled at him. "Just trying to get away, maybe find something... or someone."
We moved slowly in unison, as though under the scrutinizing eyes of people. I was still conscious of how I was perceived, like how I used to be.
The death angel stopped steps behind me as I continued without looking back. He paused without a warning. I hesitantly took a glimpse of him; he wasn't where he was supposed to be.
I skimmed the sidewalk where we had been walking. He was standing motionless, fixated on a woman who had the same stance as him.
