My dearest K.

18.

17 September 2015

My dearest K.,

Heartache can only last as long as I want it to...as long as I am still stuck on you...as long as I believe you are still alive and will soon come back and hug me tightly in your strong chest. Three months... 92 days... 2208 hours... each hour even more painful than the previous... each minute filled with more wishes to die as soon as possible to reunite with you...each second even more silent and empty than the other. Somewhere along the line, I lost track of myself and the world. Everything has become like a frozen disastrous picture and I am left with nothing to do but see it. I wish I could find the words to describe what I feel, but my head is hard as a rock and I can't get anything out of it even if I squeeze it.

Three months... I have been staying with my legs crossed, my head on the window pavement of your room, and my eyes bloodshot and my cheeks stained with the tears of the past three months. My mum and your mum come and go in this room and each time they make a 5-minute speech on time how life goes on and I should pull myself together...but once they see my tongue is tied and my eyes stuck on our picture over your nightstand, they go away even more disappointed than the last time. I could yell at them and make them go away for a minute only, but I am hoping they stay as long as possible to breathe the last drops of your scent spread in this room... as soon as your scent completely fades away, I won't breathe anymore and will come near you.

I can't sleep baby... the longest nap I have had in these months has been only 15 minutes... I am afraid to close my eyes. If I close them, the same image replays behind my eyelids. Your cold body...your pale skin... your hanging motionless hands... your bright green shut eyes... all of you lied in an old cold wooden coffin. I took your hand and put it in my hair hoping you could feel me and get up from that nasty place, but you didn't move. Then I lied over you to hear your heartbeat, but a scary silence had invaded your whole body. Then I took your head moving it upside down, screaming right in front of your angel face, but nothing. If I could I would have ripped my heart off my chest and put it in your rib cage just to see once more the deep universe inside your eyes...just to hear your deep harsh voice only once. I put some of my tears in your shut eyes and sealed a kiss on your cold dead lips... just in case you miss me down there.

Owen told me you were shot three times: one bullet straight in the heart and two others in your forehead. I can't help, but force myself to feel what you must have felt before surrendering to the death's soldiers that came to reluctantly take you from this world. Did it hurt that much baby? Were you cold? Were you afraid?

Owen said that your last words were: "I will love you forever D." Then you had smiled a bit and shut your eyes. You always said you would give your last breath for me... and you really did. I consumed your last living thought and I can be nothing else but grateful to you for letting me love you... for loving me. And I am in love with you too. And it's not because it is 12 am and I haven't slept in nearly three months. It's because I am truly in love with you. And it's not because I feel like a dead piece of flesh that can barely breathe. It's because I love you for simply being you... alive or dead. I love you at 4 am when I choke with my own breath. I love you at 10 am when a crazy glimmer of hope burns inside me that the car passing on the road in front of your house will bring you back. And I love you at 3 pm when I touch that heart figure we carved on your wall and start to believe that maybe you are just joking with all of us. I will continue loving you. Tomorrow and the last days of my life that go on after that, I am in love with you.

Forever and ever yours,

D.