I found myself crying most of the time. The place where I saw my sister earlier is the very same place I remembered just before losing my consciousness.
From the moment the death angel told me I might still be alive onwards, I didn't quite like thinking about death. Ironic how I am in this situation and I don't want to think about it.
Death angel? I haven't thought that thinking about angels would make you wince in anguish. It is pretty much like rubbing salt on wound. It pains me to even think about anything.
I still wonder how I ended up this way. If I ever would wake up and sigh in relief for it was just all a dream. And yet, it wouldn't be, because it would clearly be a nightmare I'd wake up from.
Slowly, I tried to keep my balance as I stood up from the swing. I could still hear the creaking sound it made as it kept on swaying. It's just the perfect music to my lonely self, a haunting music.
Why, of all places, should it be a playground? I had good memories here but all those will be replaced by my very death. Like in a park full of life, I could easily surrender to the background. You would not mind the being behind it for it would be a masterpiece of a lie.
You do know how much one dies in pain. How I wish I died of pain instead of not knowing anything at all. In a blink of an eye, everything is just a mere fiction, a make-believe of what used to be an imagination.
Just that. I'll be forever stuck in a world of my nonexistence. There is no end when just everything could be a beginning.
"Please don't cry," he said as he smoothed my hair like a father to his child. "I just can't stand it when a girl cries."
I hadn't noticed he was there until I looked up to the death angel.
"Then go away. You don't have to see me," I choked; words almost did not come out.
"I tried. Even if I'm dead, I still can feel."
"What now" I said, loud sobs echoed as I cried hysterically. "You pity me, don't you?I can't even look in the mirror. Oh, for the love of my being, I wouldn't even see myself because I'm just a soul. I am lurking like some phantom."
I looked heavenward and covered my face with my two hands. Was I too much of a sinner?
"I see people but they can't see me. They hurt and I pain, too. And seeing them like that makes it worse because I can't do anything! I just couldn't..." I stopped in midsentence as I thought of something that fits.
But nothing fits. Nothing will ever.
What do these tears stand for? Do I even need this? I once thought crying is a sign of weakness, of vulnerability, of feelings, because you are alive. But how?
I'm crying and yet I am dead.
Hell? I will gladly oblige going to hell than stay here forever like this, 'not dead but almost.'
How do I know when to stop? How do I know where to go? Can I even stop? Can I even go somewhere?
This is more like hell to me than what I once thought as the heaven that might be a different version from my imagination. This is worse than a nightmare I might wake up from.
The death angel neared me. "Please, just.." He lifted his left hand slowly to my face. I closed my eyes as I felt his touch.
"Just this once, let me feel," his voice trailed off.
I couldn't open my eyes because I was afraid he will be gone. He's the only one left.
I'm tired running in circles that lead to nowhere. I just want to yet again.
