The Path to Death

Endless Dreams

Am I entitled to be jelaous when you aren't even mine?  I am protective of you in fear of losing you to another. From the moment we started talking, I have adored you and connected with you in ways I have never connected with anyone else and maybe that's why I believe we are meant to be. I am naive to believe such preposterous ideas. But I do anyway because it's the only thing that keeps me sane from this misery I am dwelling in.

I believe you are mine and I am yours. But truthfully speaking, you aren't mine. And I don't know why I fear losing what is not mine.The thought of you with another woman churns my stomach and aches my heart. You are not here with me though. So I keep you alive in memory as though we have shared moments together by continuously thinking about you. Having endless dreams of us. Imagining us  being together. The things we will do, how we will act, how we will live together.

I dream about the day I'll see you. The day you will hold my hand and caress my face and say my name and embrace me tightly. I think about us a lot. We will get married, have a small party of only family and friends and go to Bali for our honeymoon. We will decorate our apartment with landscape art and paint it snowfall white. We will  make scrambled eggs in the morning and make-out in the kitchen counter and shower together and make love and laugh  and finally live a life free from loneliness and burdened by sins. Because we will finally be able to intertwin our fingers when walking and be intimate without worrying about the repercussions. I think about the ways you will gaze at me and the ways you'll hold me against your chest and put your hand under my shirt to run your fingers on my bare skin and how I'll whisper all the reasons why I love you and you'll whisper all the reasons you love me and we will drift off to sleep knowing we truly love each other.

I think about how I will give you a deep kiss that takes your breath away when you come back home from work and I would be so happy to see you and we will make dinner together while you tell me about work. And you'll ask me, " How was work today " and I will respond with the generic, "fine" and you'd probably get annoyed and I would laugh because I know I get the same reaction from you every-day.

I think about our little daughter, a fiesty girl with your eyes and my nose and we would name her Bilqis, like the Queen of Sheba. And our son, kind-hearted like you and with my wide smile, we'll name him Salahuddin. And we will sit in the garden  on Sunday evenings drinking coffee while watching them push each other on the swings and you would have a broad smile because finally you have the complete family that you've always wanted.

I will be a better mom than my mother and you will be a better  dad than your father and regardless of what tragedy befalls on us and what we lose or gain, we will awalys stand by each other. I will support you in every step you take and pray for you and advice you and invest in you because I will love you unconditionally and you will be my strength when I feel stuck and unable to move.

I am stuck in a dreadful state now. I lack motive and purpose and I can't get out of bed. Sometimes imagining you playing with Bilqis and Salahuddin makes me smile, motivates me to get out of bed, eat, finish that assignment so that I can graduate  and get a decent job and  afford a better life for Bilqis and Salahuddin. So that they can live the lives we wished we had. So that we can give them what our parents never gave us.

But Salahuddin and Bilqis do not exist. You and I have no future. And all these are fantasies conjured up in my mind to get away from reality.
My dark room is real.
This despairness is real.
The suicidal thoughts are real.
The razor on my hand is real.
The blood dripping from my wrist is real.
Death is real.