Fragments

IV.

day four

My dear,

It smells like rain. The dampness, the fresh wind, the smell of nature has been flooding into my room all day. I think I've read somewhere that it is created by bacteria spores. Funny, isn't it, that we can gain so much peace from breathing in bacteria, of all things?

You came today, for the second time. I wonder what you do all day, to have enough time to visit an unresponsive stranger twice in less than a week. But you should know that I don't really care.

I'm selfish, greedy person. As long as you keep returning to visit, I won't ask questions.

You finally spoke to me today. In your wonderfully melodic voice, you spoke first of rain, which is why I mentioned it earlier.

"It's beautiful outside today. There's no sun, but the rain drops are practically making music outside. If the sun comes out, I'd bet the rainbow it'd make would be stunning. And for the first time this week, my skin is actually not burning up from the sun. It's just... nice. Peaceful."

I smiled inwardly at that. I guessed that, of all things you would say first, you'd tell me about something random, irrelevant to the situation I'm now in.

Like you haven't seen the tubes snaking out of me, or even my closed eyes.

It's nice - refreshing, even - to be greeted not by sobs, hopeful prayers, or pleads, but by normal conversation. Of course, I can't reply to you, but it's nice all the same. At the very least, I know that one person thinks of me as sane, alive, and human- even though I know my family simply doesn't know any better.

"Well, I guess I should tell you about what's new in the news. Um, apparently, Miley Cyrus just released this terrible new music video," you told me.

You didn't strike me as the type of girl to listen to Miley Cyrus, and I was right. My sister had been obsessed with her when she was younger, and she grew up to be a girl who cared a lot about fashion and makeup, but you didn't seem like that type of girl. "I haven't seen it myself, but my cousin told me about it last night. But, I mean, it's not like you listen to her. Wait, I didn't mean to offend you if you actually do listen to her now, she's really not that bad..." you rambled, trailing off at the end. I think you were embarrassed that you were talking about Miley Cyrus, of all things, but I thought it was cute.

"There's also a gigantic wildfire in Arizona; I heard about it this morning on the radio."

You're perfect, you know that? I never thought I could find another person my age, much less a girl, who also listens to news on the radio, yet here you are.

"I wonder if they had to evacuate people out of there. That sucks. Thank the Lord we don't have any wildfires here. I'm pretty sure I'd die from terror and shock before dying from the fire itself," you chuckled. I smiled inwardly, too. I could imagine you - even without seeing your face - in that situation. Wide, brown eyes, darkened with fear. A flush from the heat formed on your pale skin as you become more agitated. Your silky hair, tangled in little knots, swept all over the place from the smoke and raging wind. Then, as the fire creeps away from the forest and towards the town, you collapse on to the floor, gracefully. The kind of fainting you oftentimes see in movies, but brought to life.

After this comment, a silence settled in. It wasn't too awkward though, surprisingly, since it was a one-sided conversation for you. But if I could have moved, I would have chuckled right along with you and said, "But I'd save you from the fire before you even realize it. I'd be like Superman, you know?" And then, in my fantasy world, you'd laugh like a tinkling fountain, flattered, and you'd smile and give me your number. Then, I'd call you one day, when I was a faded memory about to slip out from your mind, and I would ask you out on a date, to a coffee shop down the block you would happen to adore. And later on, we'd laugh at the fact that of all places, we met in a hospital.

Except this is just a wild dream that does not exist and never will. God damn it, I'd bet my life on the fact that you will never see me in the way I already know I will come to see you. It's like I'm an all-knowing narrator who already knows the outcome of a story. I'll fall down the slippery slope of love, but it'll forever be one-sided. And when they take off the life support, the love will simply die with me. I feel trapped in every area. In love, in health, in life - I already know everything will come to an end. Do you remember back in junior high, when the teachers would ask you what you would choose of the two choices- to know or not know the date of your death? Every time, I'd answer that no, I didn't want to know, but look at where I am now. Ironic, isn't it?

I should apologize for being so depressed. I tried, I really did, to stop myself from thinking too many negative thoughts today. But it's hard, I tell you, to keeping from venturing on to that topic when all I can do is think for about sixteen hours a day.

Anyways, you, oddly enough, seemed to know my name. You said it once, during your visit, and I still relish the sound of my name rolling off the tip of your tongue. I wonder if it is because you saw my name printed somewhere - in a "we're praying for you" or "get well soon" card (a deluge of which arrived this morning from well-wishing friends and extended family) or perhaps my hospital bracelet. Maybe you've even spoken to my parents, but I doubt it. Your visits have been too short, and I'm pretty sure they don't know who you are.

I lied earlier, you know. In these letters to you - not to your face, of course. I want to know so many more things about you, and I can't stop thinking about the questions you've left unanswered. Why did you come here? Will you come back again? What's your name? Why does it seem like I know you from before the accident? I don't like this restless feeling I have. There are too many factors, too many possible answers, and I hate this gut feeling I have that's telling me they won't be answered anytime soon, or if they are, I won't like what I hear.

I used to have so much control over my life; the pieces of my life were finally coming together. It just seems that now, everything is slipping away through the cracks in my hands.

☾

I think the things I miss most are the stars. This is, of course, not including the members of my family, be family always trumps everything else. Even you, my dear, because you are not family, not yet.

The black that surrounds me is void of those twinkling lights, or even any illumination. I want to see, at least once more, the stars that are impossibly large and impossibly far away. I want to reach for them, knowing that I'll never touch them or even come close to them, yet filling my heart and head with pointless hopes all the same. You might find it weird that I long for the stars, of all things. Stars which I will never touch, stars that represent unachievable goals. The things that will eventually let me down. But hope is the most wonderful feeling, I tell you. True hope is not just an emotion; for me, it's an encompassing belief that, for that moment, everything is possible, even against all odds, perfection is achievable, and our universes are boundless.

Those stars, when seen in the darkest of nights, give me a kind of hope I've never felt in other places. I can't help but think how much I want to see the stars again, even if they are figments of my imagination.

Thank God that at least you are here, my lovely darling. You are beautifully lucent; still shining with hopeful light when everyone else has dimmed into flickering coals.

You know, I used to drive up to the Marin Headlands every weekend, just to see the stars. It was my private escape from the world. I’d have gone again today- that is, if I could have driven. When everyone else at UCSF went to frat parties, I was gazing up at the night sky. The view never could compare to the view I had when I was growing up in Hawaii, but it came pretty darn close. If I ever wake up, I’ll take you there as a thank you for your wonderful visits that I enjoy more than I should. I promise.

From, Everett

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Dedication to starlightt because not only is she an amazing writer, but her book, Superior, was the first book I read on Wattpad.