I loved the color white. I really do. It has always been the colour that bestows me all the anomalous and extraordinary things I've ever came to grasp in life. And the thought crossed me in one particular moment, that maybe this is my colour. That it was meant for me. It has always been like that, but now, I think it's time for me to think otherwise.
**
The sky was too white. The blinding kind of white, to be exact— an excruciating colour.
My eyes were frantically squinting as I tried to intuit the place where I stood— the stinging pain on my eyes was inconceivable seeing as to I was never accustomed to the particular kind of white light. It took me so many minutes, almost counted as hours, only to get a perfectly clear view of the landscape I'm in. I had sensed something definitely amiss on the place, much more on myself. Starting with the fact that I somehow found it hard to recollect the memories of my whole being. I almost went teary-eyed, but fortunately or unfortunately, my entirety was numb and my mind was then preoccuppied by two burning questions:
1. How did I get here?
2. Who am I?
I was like a blank page.
A newborn creature.
And I didn't know, which one is worse.
I was in the midst of a sea of people, seeing them running in circles, too focal and disheartening, and the exact moment I thought that the landscape was too agonizing to perceive, I closed my eyes and disappeared into thin air.
People saw smoke rising from the place where I had left, but to them, it was simply a figment.
I was simply a figment.
"You know you can talk to me. As your mother, it pains me to see you like this." Then again, — the bright light clearly never symphatizing my pain — I fought with the blinding colour and rejoiced as I opened my eyes. I was merely standing there, viewing a scenery of a typical mother and daughter, which is not at all— even an inch— helped in unravelling my mind's burning questions.
Why don't they see me? And the more I get to be, you know, here, makes it all the way worse. I don't even know if I'm me.
"Damien should'nt affect you like this. You weren't like this; you were that strong girl I always had when you were still young, and I was starting to regret why I let him enter your life because he ruined it, and you let him ruin you."
"What. Are. You. Talking About?" Her daughter's face contorting with such vehement rage, "I don't need you, or anyone telling me about my relationship with Damien. You don't know anything. You're just my mom." And with that, all hell broke loose. The daughter, being the sensitve and touchy girl she was, made me hate her guts.
"I-I'm sorry. I understand—"
" No, you don't." Her daughter raised one finger and pointed at the door. "Get out."
Her mother was taken aback by what her daughter had said. Pools of tears were being spilt by both of them and I casually stood there feeling remorse, not because of the scene before me but because I suddenly felt idle and completely stunned — I felt a reason, but I couldn't point it out.
My mind was still in shambles but I felt myself disappearing, again.
As I reopened my eyes, I suddenly felt too restless and jaded. The happenings were like a repercussion of events and right now, in this exact moment, I don't know which one is which.
I was in a seemingly peculiar park, not knowing where to go until I saw a group of people dressed in black. I felt an odd connection, and I found myself unconciously dragging myself towards the place and was utterly gobsmacked to see so many people gathered around.
Maybe she was well-liked but unluckily, time's gold and it's ticking..., My mind spoke with uncontrollable audacity.
"Karen was a good kid. Even now, I always think she is." My daydreaming was suddenly halted when a woman spoke behind the microphone; unlike the others, she wore the colour white with bloodshot eyes and I just couldn't fathom how much she loved the person in that coffin. As I scooted closer, I found out that it was the same woman earlier. "My baby just loved someone dearly, so so dearly that she ended up hurting herself and suddenly, he gave eveything to him and nothing was left of her. And still, I think she's a good kid. After all, she is my princess— always will be. Deep down, she always was. And I am deeply thankful for all the people who showed up here and.. I do hope that we think likewise."
The moment she finished talking, fits of surpressed tears and sobes were heard within the vicinity and surprisingly, I became a part of them.
"You idiot, why are you crying?" I said to myself and let myself scoot over until I was in front of the coffin, and to say I was just shocked was the biggest understatement of the year. I was fully mortified, because what I see inside was something that was beyond anyone's beliefs.
What I see inside was an utterly, most certainly, mirroring version of me.
Now, I see.
The burning questions were advanced to a higher level when I saw my mother amd me bickering over Damien because that wasn't exactly me as of the moment. I still had that certain glint of hope, deep deep down, and I knew that time, that I still had myself. More or less, I still knew how it feels to actually live. Or merely understanding the concept of living.
And as more pain and circumstansances aroused between me and Damien, I've let myself succumb unto nothingness and with just that, I simply wilted away.
And regret, was eating every single inch of me.
I turned around and saw all the heaps of people shedding their tears over a stuck up, insolent bitch that thought the world was going to evolve around one person alone, and without it, suicide was the only go-to answer for everything or anything. And now I remembered the days, when suicide wasn't actually my thing, but I was really that selfish and all things came tumbling down. I mean really, what a bitch.
"No, please don't cry. I am not worth any of your tears."
I stumbled and knelt over my little brother. He was crying to, and it was just too excruciating to know that I wouldn't see him grow. I wouldn't be there to give him all the advices he'll need just like a big sister would actually do. I wouldn't be there to hold him when he cries about a nightmare and let me tuck him to sleep. I wouldn't be there to teach him how to love a girl truly and completely. I do suck. I really really do.
And there was my dad wearing white too, because they knew me that well like the back of their hands. He was my hero and I was his princess.
But then, that princess was silly enough to not let her hero save her.
I took one last look at each one of them and memorized their faces, not minding whether my chest constricted in such vehement pain because then, I guess I deserved all that kind of pain.
But still, one burning question was newly formed on my insides.
'Why is someone letting me see this?'
To let me feel pain for the rest of eternity? To punish me? To make me feel useless? To let me see that I had wasted such a great life?
No, stop. Please stop listening to your bitchy side." My inner side contradicted. So I let myself indulge in something positive and found myself greatly content of the answer I got.
Maybe someone up there is letting me see this to make me thing that there is actually more to life. He's not making me regret, He wants me to rethink. He's not punishing me, He wants me to understand the concept of life which I never did while I lived and to give me something remarkable before I finally let go of life.
I closed my eyes and felt myself disappearing, hoping for it to be the last. And then I thought, maybe calling me a figment doesn't sound right, because somehow, I lived and left a mark.
"I am not a figment. No, not an inch." My lips incoherently gave a small sad smile and said, "I was done."
