Interlude.

What's your favourite colour?"
A question that has lived with me throughout my entire years.
With confidence I said "purple"
They always asked me why. I never really gave them the most appropriate answer. Mainly because when I was young, purple made me feel different. Girls were always expected to love a certain pink, to always follow that order. Purple made me feel superior.
Made me all sorts of different.
Always a good different.

Little did I know.

Purple stains*.

Tomorrow is a day closer to our day.
Everyday is a day closer to ours.

I sit on this wooden chair,
Listening to it creak as my body makes a frontward backward motion.
I stare aimlessly at the road ahead.
Wondering.
Always wondering.

"Annoyed with the World?" she puts her tiny soft hands on my shoulder.
Making me feel the heat radiating from her.
I continue to look forward. Already knowing where she's going at.

"The perks of being an Eccedentist",she whispers.
"The secret of this pain lies deep within but can only be seen by our kind".
I sigh, massaging my temples. Not really feeling the need to hear what more she has to say.
In attempt to run away, I pick my heavy battered body up and start to walk away.
She chuckles light hearted "Running again I guess?"
"How long will you deny these stains? How long will your body handle them? Don't run away. Talk to me"

Her words remind me of a certain everybody. Always telling me that they want to listen.
To comfort me.
But they don't understand, I'm not trying to get pity or supposed heartfelt advice.
I don't want that.

I continue to walk away from her, counting every step that takes me further from her view.

"I am in pain", I whisper to the winds.
"I've got bruises so deep that they have turned into scars. The kind that stains every part of me"
"I want to cry", I slouch my body.
"But what point is it to waste my tears on someone that has put me on hold? Should I really be doing this. Crying so loud for love that existed only for their benefit"
"I'm an instrument of pain", I laugh.
"He is my composer. With each stroke, with each beat. He creates harmonious symphonies that leave the crowd bewildered. He creates a wave of sensual vocals that lead me breathless and in pain"
"People love his work, they love to listen to the beats of my drained heart,  the soft strum of my throaty voice", I sigh.

My body is at halt. I can no longer continue to walk.
With that, I fall heavy on my knees.
Hands on the rough sand.
Head trying to bury itself deeper.
"Everyday is a day closer to ours", I cry.

My body shakes feverishly letting out the pain.
My throat cracks in attempt to let my voice be heard.
My heart shatters even more. My mind flustered and goes black.
My eyes are bloodshot, but no tears.
It's only been a few months but it feels like years.
Holding on to him. To this pain.
I try to get a grip onto the soil but my body fails.
I fall, now laying on the ground.
Whispering, crying to it.
Finally letting someone in.

"I told you, that only I understand you", she crouches and releases a small smile.

She squints her eyes and croaks her head.
"What's your favourite colour? "

I keep quiet. Not from embarrassment but from exhaustion of this cycle. I'm always caught at my worst.
Why must I always be caught.

"No answer", She sighs
"How do you expect to get over this if you don't talk? " she whispers harshly

I sigh, I shut my eyes in hopes for her to disappear.
I can't handle playing to her. For her own comfort that her life is somewhat better than mine.
This instrument, is worn out.

"I'm still here you know. And I'm not trying to save you. I could never do that. I'm not him",I hear
"I just can't watch you break down like this anymore. I don't want you to feel what I felt", she coughs.
"I'm not here for saving. If you refuse to talk of your pain at least let me in on your favourite colour ", she pleads.

"Purple", I murmur

"Just like the colour of your stains",she laughs.

"Do you believe in your dreams and aspirations?" I whispered to myself.
Looking at the grey dull sky, I sigh.
"I don't, I can't believe in them"

Round and round my mind goes,
Infiltrating my deepest and finding answers yet here it is.
Avoiding the question that runs kilometers in my heart.
The question that travels the end of me and back.

"Don't I believe in my future?"

I do, I'd like to believe so.
But my dreams fight my heart, breaking through my ribcage. Searching for my mind. Because it's the logical one. It should tell me my dreams. It should lead me in the right direction.

Are my dreams my own,  or are they the subliminal message the world throws at us.
That being making a difference, generating money that never ends.
Or a white picket fence with a family.

Now tell me. My first love was known to be art.
The oil, the fuel that drove my creativity and told me that I had no limits. That told me that I could go above any substantial pedestal.
But they told me not to, that I can't love it the way I should. Which hurt. Broke me until I found sports

But the deafening injuries it set to my body forces me to create a never ending strain. Pain that could never be released and healed if I don't stop.

But just because I loved them, made me wonder if they were my dreams.
Would I really spend the rest of my life on them.
The world tells you to make money out of your hobbies.
But aren't we just following the cycle of follow your dreams which is money?

"Do you believe in your dreams and aspirations?"

I don't know what to believe in.
Somebody tell me what my dreams are?

Because in the end, we are told that success is money.
And money is success.

Does this make money my dream?

But I don't know what I miss exactly.
Or if I really miss you.
The misshaps of death might have left me here,
But I miss you.

You were a cruel bitter sweet memory of my childhood.
A surge of pain and heartbreak in my eyes.
The reason behind her glass eyes and exhausted posture.

I miss you.
The sudden heavy weight of death.
Caused a rising pain in my chest,  a cut in my throat.

There exists a black hole.
Piled up with emptiness, searching for more.
Hoping to fill it.

I miss you.
Your lips moved in hate.
Spitting senile, hatred words.
Staining my heart.
You never really had a soul from the start.

I miss you.
I miss the days you were goofy
The days you made me laugh.
The times life shined through and showed us the gentle side.

It hurts, missing you with a dash of hate.
Hate for you not being able to apologize.
For you breaking what we were.
The bond we once had.

The awkward moments rose each day.
Every time you died a little.
Everytime the hospital stench started to feel like home.

I miss you.
You hurt me.
Them.

I miss you.
I feel incomplete.
Come back.

Please.

There's a little bit of pain everywhere.
Emotions cut throat disturbing the mindset of others.
As her bloodshot eyes tell the story of a broken heart.
His teary eyes represent the broken, defeated part of his soul.

There's a little bit of pain everywhere.
A small impact that creates a wave of emotions that begin to cluster our hearts and creates a weight of heavy pain.

There's a little bit of inevitably everywhere.
I ask,
"How long shall this storm tear us further more into pieces? "

Her body wobbles like jelly. Vision darkens like the night sky.
The euphoric feel brings her to a close high.
She hits the ground, feeling nothing but her broken battered heart.

He looks at her,  not knowing what to do.
His head faced down, tears flowing like the river.
He tries to understand but his heart screams "**** the cycle of life"
He closes his eyes and ***** his fist with frustration.

I stand there watching them.
Eyebrows furrowed, a heavy hardened look plastered on.
Try not to feel their pain because what I feel is not for them but for me.
What I feel is selfish.
As they look at who they became because of her,  I reminisce the memories and chances I got to see him.
I think about the things I could have done.

How I should have stayed there and said my proper good byes to the man that raised me.
But the Pride he Created and built in me.
The level of strength he engraved on me.
Disregards the sense of emotions I need to let go off.
Eyes furrow deeper as I try to support them.
To watch them and try to be grateful for the life they had with her.

But seconds later, my soul wanders to the mourning I need to do.
To the mourning that will haunt me.
For I never gave you a proper goodbye.
And for the goodbye that will never come.
I'm not ready.

"How are you? " concerned voices overlap my sense of thinking. Eyebrows creased in pity, eyes full of sorrow staring right into my lifeless ones.
"Have you cried? " they utter.
I stare blankly at them.
Not having the right answer or response.

See truth of the matter is voices chase me telling me I need closure.
Mind drilling inside me telling me I need composure.
Because truth of the matter is I don't want to believe it.

Life is precious but the sudden hit of death makes you realise that more.
It makes you want to cherish it.
But the sad reality is that, the mindset of what death teaches us isn't going to stick with us.
Weird right?
We start to believe life is short and precious  but give us a couple of days and ****. Mindset gone.

They told me that I needed closure.
From the second they saw my lifeless eyes and limp body.
They told me I needed to let it go.
To accept and understand that this is the circle of life.
They told me I need to shed tears more and be more emotional.
Told me that I should face my fears.

They kept telling me how to react,
What to do and I just couldn't.
I just can't.

Sitting outside looking at the night sky
Watching the stars shine bright I exhale.
I sigh in extreme exhaustion and pain.
I sigh in such a way that my heart and soul are screaming to the world.
Head faced high my mind scatters,
My heart jolts and runs leading to an almost cardiac.
With the sudden need to whisper to the winds and ask them where he is and if he's safe.
Feet trembling with the requirement of making sure he's somewhat happy where he is.
Soul shatters with the idea that I can never see him again.
A stinging longing pain arises in my chest.
Making me stare blankly.

Composure Composure!
My mind screams.
Dare not to dream,  nightmares follow you then.
I clear my painful lump filled throat.

Composure composure, I sing song to myself.
I'm not ready for closure because the reality of losing you finally hits in.
I don't want that.