A Sky Without Moon

Chapter 5: Conversations with Shadows

In the stillness of the night, I found myself talking to them - not in whispers, not out loud, but in the quiet language of memory. They were there, in the corners of my mind, like shadows that flickered when I let my guard down. I spoke to those shadows, hoping for answers that would never come.

At first, I told myself it was a way to cope, a way to feel close to them. But as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the conversations became more frequent. I'd ask them questions, share my thoughts, or simply sit in silence, feeling their presence in a way that was both comforting and painful. I knew they weren't really there, but that didn't stop me from reaching out into the void, hoping for some kind of response.

The words we never spoke haunted me the most. There were so many things left unsaid - apologies, thank yous, even the simple everyday conversations we took for granted. I would sit alone and imagine what it would have been like if we had just one more day together. What would I say? Would it change anything, or would I still be left with this unbearable silence?

Sometimes, I imagined they were listening. I imagined their voices answering me, telling me it was okay, that they were at peace. But the truth was, those conversations weren't for them. They were for me, an attempt to fill the emptiness, to bridge the gap that stretched endlessly between the life I had known and the one I was living now.

I asked questions I knew had no answers. Why did things have to end this way? Why couldn't I hold on to the people who mattered most? The more I spoke to the shadows, the more distant I felt from reality. The world outside continued to move forward, but I was stuck, living in a dialogue with ghosts. Every word I spoke echoed back to me, a reminder that no one was truly there.

There was one person whose absence echoed the loudest. She had been the one I thought I could rely on, the one who could have filled the void left behind. But in my fear of losing her too, I had pushed her away before she had a chance to leave on her own. It was my greatest regret - the one that played on repeat in my mind. I spoke to her shadow most of all, begging for forgiveness, wishing I could turn back time.

But shadows don't speak. They listen, silently, patiently, as you pour your heart out, but they offer nothing in return. No comfort, no closure, just the cold reminder that the past is gone, and there's no reaching it, no matter how much you try. The conversations with them had become a way to fill the silence, but they also deepened the void, reminding me of how alone I truly was.

I often wondered if I was losing myself to these talks with the past. The longer I spent in these imagined conversations, the harder it became to connect with the present. People still tried to reach out, to draw me back into the world, but I resisted. The shadows were familiar, even if they were empty. They didn't judge, didn't leave me. They stayed, quietly listening, as I unraveled before them.

But even in these conversations, I knew the truth. I was clinging to a memory, to a life that no longer existed. I couldn't change the past, no matter how much I wished I could. The shadows were just that - shadows of a time long gone, and no amount of words would ever bring them back.

And yet, I continued. Because as long as I spoke to them, it felt like they were still here.