I try not to look in the corner, where your guitar rests--isolated and forsaken. I’ve tried to keep myself busy, so I don’t have time to think. So I don’t have time to feel. But for all the effort I put in, it’s pointless. For no matter how involved I become, there’s nothing to distract me as I lie alone at night, imagining you strumming away a song to carry me into forever.
That guitar is all I have left to remember you by, that and the empty space in my heart where you once lived. Where you tore your way into my soul and scraped out a place to call your own. And for however painful it might have been, I was never happier. You became a part of me, your haunting voice lingering in my mind through the night, chasing away the darkness.
Now the darkness has taken your place, leaving me a hollow shell of what I once was. The wretched void consumes me and as much as I cry out for help, my pleas are engulfed by the nothingness I’ve come to know. No one knows. No one can help me. Was this how you felt? Was this why you chose to leave?
My thoughts can’t help but to drift away to that edge, to the point of no return. Could that be the solution to my agony, would that vanquish this feeling of desolation? What would I find there?
I push it all away as I lean against the wall, sliding slowly to the floor. The rain that pounds against the window pane seems just another force determined to flatten me into submission, into nothing. I reach a hand out and stroke my fingers lightly across the strings. The resulting echoes are like stabs to the chest, each vibration slicing away a part of me. I **** my hand back and cradle it against my chest, unable to staunch the flow of tears that come pouring out as heavily as the torrential downpour outside.
I struggle to see through the film over my eyes and with the dim lighting coming in through the window, I can just barely see the reflection off the smooth, black finishing of your guitar. Memories bombard me as I clench my eyes against my minds eye. Seeing you run your hands fluidly over the neck, your agile fingers plucking out the enchantingly beautiful notes, as gently as when you would touch me…..
I can’t take much more of this. Being left here alone is too much for me to handle, I can’t face this oblivion on my own. Blindly I reach out for the edge of my desk and pull myself up. My hand skims over something icy cold and grasp the handle of the silver letter opener my grandmother gave me.
I sink back down, letter opener in hand and I feel sure for the first time since you died. I drag the blade across my skin, not even feeling the pain as I watch in fascination the scarlet lines appear, first faint then bold as the blood runs out. I rest my head on the floor, mesmerised as the dark pool around me grows ever larger.
There’s a heaviness weighing down on me now, and yet I’m feeling almost
weightless. My eyelids are growing heavy and I can’t keep them open as the darkness creeps over my vision. There’s a faint pounding in my ears and I can’t help but hear labored breathing. I wonder who that could be? Eh, that doesn’t matter now. I relax and I swear I feel like I’m floating. I’m drifting off to sleep now, my mind slowly shutting down. But as I let go, I swear I can hear your voice and the strum of your guitar, lulling me into infinity.