Falling

1

Tick... tick... tick...

The steady ticking of the clock is the only thing filling the emptiness of the room.

The noise burns itself into my skull, giving me a headache and it just won't stop. The clock keeps on ticking, the time keeps on 5fleeing, the world keeps on moving, people keep on changing and I just stay the same. I stay depressed, I am holding onto my memories, I just can't move on, I mean how would that even be possible? My life is one big train wreck and it seems as if I just can't be saved. And then there is this bloody ticking...

It seems to be nagging me, making fun of me and all this lost time, all this time that goes on, all this time I still have. All this time without... HIM

Time is a construct made entirely by the human race. It's just an illusion, time is just one big illusion and it is quite different to everyone. And at the moment I really wish that it just wouldn't exist. It just goes on too slowly, almost as if it is standing still. Could the clock be broken? No, no it can't, I remind myself, otherwise it wouldn't make these damned ticking noises.

I want to scream. I want to scream out all of my bottled up emotion because it feels that if i don't do so, I am just going to explode. But I just can't. Instead I am just sitting there, glued on to the armchair. My eyes fixed on to the wall, on the yellow smiley face to be exact. This obnoxious yellow colour is screaming in my face, burning itself into my eyes. A permanent picture I am afraid to never get out of my vision again.

The smiley which once seemed so happy, was now annoyingly reminding me of what I had. Reminding me of what I have lost. Oh God, how am I supposed to go on living like this???

Sighing sadly, I stand up, making my way into the kitchen. The microscopes and all the other stupid things Sherlock always needed for his dumb "experiments" are now replaced by rows of empty bottles. I smile to myself as I whisper:" look at this Sherlock, I am now doing my own little experiment. How much do I have to drink until I can join you. Haven't been successful yet, though." I pour myself another glass full of this burning liquor, secretly hoping this would make me forget.

The alcohol fills my body, leaving a burning sensation in my throat and a warm feeling in my tummy. Oh how I love it, as if a fire is being lit in the depths of my stomach, a wildfire ready to spread, ready to burn me and these stupid memories down. It makes me almost feel whole again even if just for a split second. Drinking became a big habit of me since... you know. I can now totally understand Harry, I think to myself.

It is so much easier to cope with everything that way, you know? At least in the moments I am drinking. The regret always comes with the rising sun. When I wake up in even more pain, both physically and mentally. Hating myself for every sip I have taken the day before. To cope with this immense pain I always end up drinking more. It's like an spiral going downwards as fast as humanly possible. Like a waterfall pulling me into the great unknown, and I can only guess, that what's waiting for next won't be good at all.

With every sip I hope to forget him and what had happened but in the end I always end up lying on the floor, the world around me spinning like a carousel. Round and round and round.
And instead of forgetting his face, his voice, his eyes, his name, I always end up forgetting my own one. The only word I can produce in my drunken state of mind is a slurred and broken "Sherlock". I repeat his name over and over again like a cry for help, playing it like a broken record over and over again the same melody

. And I guess that that is all I really am. A broken record, playing the only melody I still know, his name and everything which has to do with him.
And I am broken, oh so God damn broken, and instead of trying to move on, trying to fix myself,I am destroying myself even more.

Every thought of him is like poison, and oh how I crave for it. I am trying to lick of every little drop of it, because I have always been quite a self-destructive person after all, and Sherlock was yet the best destruction I have ever faced in my life.

I don't quite know what it was about him. He was just so extraordinary, so interesting and the best friend I have ever had in my whole existence. I will never find someone like him again, will never have quite a friendship as the one we shared. It seemed like we were made for each other. Like two opposed poles being pulled towards each other. And know he is pulling me down with him and I am falling so hard, just waiting for the moment I finally crash.

I guess for a few seconds you could mistake falling for flying, but the permanent destination is waiting for you. Death is waiting for you. And in my case eternal sadness is the one thing waiting for me. But I am still falling and falling and falling, still waiting for the landing. But I don't quite know if I should fear it, because it isn't the fall that kills you, no, it is the landing. Sherlock already got to see it, my turn is still to come. I am awaiting it and I know that I will be ready if it comes. But for know I am still falling, and for know I am still alive.