Can I Make it Snow on the Inside of My Heart?

Version III

Can I Make It Snow on the Inside of my Heart? III

I remember when I used to watch you from afar. Not physically far away, but emotionally. I was sick of other people making you smile. I wanted that to be my job and my job alone. But now it’s been almost three years... All skulls smile. All skulls give you a horrible grin as they stare at you with their eyes that are not there. I only bet yours does the same.

            All I wanted was for you to notice me and me only. If I needed help, you would drop everything and rush to my aid. That was not your responsibility, though. That was mine, and you had me wrapped around your little toe. If you needed me, I would run to you. If you called for me, I would quit my conversation and appear by your side. If you asked after me on your deathbed, I would cross the ocean to get to you. But you never called me for the latter. You left, a whole emotional sea separating us, my only link to you an E-Mail address. I sent you thousands of E-Mails, but you never replied.

            Each time, I tried to convince myself I didn’t care. It worked for three hours once. Then I awoke, beside a pond, where ducks and swans drifted past, uncaring for me. My body felt cold just then, even in the heat summer. I tried to cry. All my eyes were doing were making me feel like I was getting further and further away from the sky, until I was slipping through the earth completely, lower and lower. The dirt kissed me, something you never did. The dirt hugged me and filled my lungs that day, drowning me in a barrage of bittersweet memories. Images flashed across my mind as I fell, and I saw the sea and I saw the creatures and I saw the ending of the first era on earth. I feel the sea around me even now, forgiving me more than Jesus ever could.

            Goodbye, my love. Goodbye, my girl.

            My love is as deep and as pure as an angel drowning. Its body scattering across the sea bed, I would pick up not just the pieces of a broken heart, but of a broken life. I would recover myself to the surface and wade to the beach. I swim upwards now, through this thick mist of water to the rippling skin and breathe, cool, heavy air filling my lungs. My eyes unfocused and freezing, I paddle towards the shore, clutching the pieces of angel in my fists. I return home. I pick up the needle. I pick up the thread. I take one last look at the pieces before shutting my eyes, trusting my love for you, and sewing the pieces together.

            The resultant figurine is nothing but a lifeless shape, its life ripped out and fragmented across every dimension possible, and I take it out of the house. I loop it under my arm, trying hard not to drop it. I lug it the seven miles to the resting place of souls, wheezing now, sweat drying out my body, and arrive at your grave. Take this! Take this dead angel! It represents you. You are my dead angel!

            With words that linger in the air, twisting and tumbling before penetrating the ground with a bang that echoes in my ears, I leave. I walk the seven miles back home.

Two days pass and I still have the heavy water in my ears and lungs. I can breathe it and hear it. It lures me. I heave myself up, the water dragging my innards down. It is only five minutes for the average person to walk to that pond. It takes me fifteen. My draw to the pond is stronger than my draw to you has ever been, but I understand that, if I go, I will not be forever alone in this dank world. The bench we once sat at, joking and laughing, has its paint peeling. The swans form a circle for me in the water and I fall forward. I do not even cause a splash. I fall and twist in the air, melting into the water and integrating with it completely. I feel the heavy water returning to its rightful place as my lungs form a vacuum. I open my mouth and the heavy water is in my lungs again, dragging my body peacefully down to the bed. I welcome it as I welcome my own, and snuggle into the sand. Feeling leaves me as the water, once cold to the touch, wraps itself around me. My eyes close and my teeth feel like they are not there anymore. My tongue stops moving. My muscles stop twitching. My brain stops thinking.

            I die.