I Told The Stars About You

Last Words of a Shooting Star

My limbs hurt. Although all this time I've felt something in my chest, like a pressure that keeps me from breathing but also has me in a chokehold to cry at any given moment, any moment in private where I'm alone and I'll know that my mother isn't there to worry or open and walk inside the room to ask if I'm okay to only a given answer as she sees me suffering. At the moment right now I realize my limbs hurt.

I think it's from the tension of being so depressed. But that's something I don't have clarity over, at some given point after the passing, I was fine. And now I am not fine, I thought I had gone through all my grief, all the possible existing steps of grief. I was going to therapy and after so long finally decided to let go, let go of his things and burn memories to set me free, to give me the peace I was longing for.

I wish now to take a bath and within the bath water disappear, maybe into nothingness or into a space of time where I'm even more unstable. Insane. The man who lost the love of his life and was never bound to love anyone else, though he has forgotten how his voice sounded like, or the color of his eyes, the texture of his hair, the smell of his natural skin, body temperature. The man who is still so devoted to his dead lover though he has forgotten every single particular or non special feature about him, and everytime he looks at a physical or mental picture he feels as if the floor itself crumbles and leaves him no steadiness to step on. Unstable.

The man who has been left to nothing, with no one, with loneliness and applied pityness. With a lost soul, a heart that aches in the morning and dies at night; and that same cycle repeats until the man, the human himself dies either at the early hours of the morning or at the late night hours when the sky paints black.

I had walked away from the field after receiving a call from Shimoda. I'm not sure why he called, I had hurted him, intentionally, so he would leave me alone, that included messages or calls. But he called.

"Andrew...I miss you... I miss my friend..." he said to me, his voice sounded weak as if he had been crying.

"What?" I answered.

"I wish we could talk, talk things through..."

I sniffled and hiccuped. I felt no emotional reaction to his proposal, I had no plans in talking things through. I had done things for a reason and with a benefit.

"No, Shimoda no I told you! I-I TOLD YOUU!"

"I know Andrew but please-"

"You're better without me, I hurted you, I'm better without you." At some point my words stopped making sense.

"YOUUUU JUST HAVE TOOO LEAAAAVE ME ALONE! I'M GRIEVING DAMMIT!"

"Are you..drunk?"

"SHIMODA! JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! OKAY?!"

"You're drunk out of your mind..."

"Fuck off." I hang up. I was never a mean drunk but I think now I'm just irritated to begin with, and so right now I am an angry drunk. I hung up.

And now the water is rushing fast to the tub, it's hot, I wanted it hot. Almost hot enough to burn my muscles and my bones, to cut through my skin and leave me vulnerable, to the water to consume me and my pain and numbness. Or make me completely numb, so I don't feel anything anymore, no pain anymore, nothing.

I reach down to the tub to touch the water, it's too hot. So much that I don't think even going inside the water will be possible. But it will definitely be enough to consume me, to end me. I grab the ends of my bathrobe and hold them up to let me place a foot inside to test if it'll actually peel my skin off. As my skin barely touches the water, it feels like a quick burn, I yelp and right away remove my foot off the tub. Almost falling down in the action of it.