Hospitalized, fatigued and breathless she laid. Beeps of her monitored pulse was all that resonated the room. A room full of grief and sorrow enough to move the stiffest and coldest of hearts.
I could feel the very faint, aching beats of my broken self. Looking back and diving into my stream of thoughts wasn’t much help either. It wasn’t cold enough to put off the burning flames. Actually, it was more like petrol; it fed the fire within me even more. She was so small. She was so alive and she had a smile so rare, some travel the world in search of. They say humans don’t appreciate what they have until it’s taken away from them. But I appreciated my little friend. I appreciated and loved her so much. And hence I didn’t get why I was losing her.
The chills started to kick in and the miracles my hopeful mind was circling around and searching for were gradually fading, together with every other euphoric voice inside of me. I wasn’t in denial anymore. I wasn’t far fetching for the unreachable anymore. I was giving in. Like standing in the rain. Knowing there is no home to head to, no shelter to rescue you. It was that every strike of raindrop that brought me back to my senses. That brought me back to the world we really live in. To the world where nothing happens according to plan, and where you just have to start getting used to the every blink-of-an-eye change.
I would tell you I was angry, but then I’d be lying. I was sad. I was lost. And I felt naked. It’s not easy hiding away the tears. And it’s not easy finding out you’re crying after you’re already halfway through exposing your pride and solitude. It wasn’t easy, and it hurt.
I can’t remember much of how and why I left the room. It was like I teleported myself out by blackening the memory of my exit, and all I could see myself doing was slamming the hospital’s main exit door behind me and heading to the nearby park. A pitch black garden was a perfect aroma for souls like mine.
The salty waters of my melancholic body were still rushing down my cheeks. My outrageous self gave my body -including my brain- a free pass to do whatever I felt like doing.
And that’s when I saw myself standing up, staring up to the void within the sky, preparing my vocals for a voice so loud, I couldn’t even recognize as my very own. I was talking to Someone up there. No, I wasn’t talking. I was shouting. I was shouting because I was weak and vulnerable. I knew it wasn’t anyones fault but mine. I understood what life is very well, although I played an alarmingly great role in pretending that I didn’t. I see people fall everyday and I also thought I’d never be like them. Inevitably, I gave myself the right to believe in a “good life”. All my life I was lying to myself, not knowing that one day I, and only I, will pay the price alone.
Nonetheless, I remained shouting. So guiltfully, so shamefully shouting to that one existence that has been by my every step. Ironically, it thickened and strengthened my faith even more.
I eventually looked down. And there I saw my shadow. And If it weren’t for that sole lamp a few meters behind, I wouldn’t have ever noticed. I wouldn’t have ever noticed how small I am. How small, wasted and broken we humans are.
I looked down and looked up again. I didn’t apologize because I didn’t feel the need to. The divinity of The Existence did not need my mortal apology. I looked up again because I wanted whoever up there to know that I’m still in need.
That I feel in need of believing in something a lot bigger than us weak, vulnerable humans.