"Oh god," I sighed.
It was 6:57 and on most mornings, I would have been out of the house already. Probably somewhere sandwiched in the morning rush hour.
But the reluctance to move is real these days. Instead of waking up with the drive to conquer the day, I wake up with an unexplained feeling of sadness wrapped around my bones - the kind of sadness you vaguely recognise but haven't quite learned to deal with.
"Where are you now?"
That bloody question etched in the forefront of all my thoughts. I'm not sure if it's my 7-year-old conscience haunting my 24-year-old self, or my 24-year-old self drawing out my 7-year-old conscience.
"Gone. Six feet under. Just gone."
I don't even need to remind myself. I know this all too well. But despite the hard truth engrained in my head, I still wish y'all were here on days like this.
As soon as I got into office, my neighbour had gotten me iced milo. A couple of hours later, my mini boss walked in with hot chocolate from Starbucks. An hour before lunchtime, a fellow colleague gifted us with snacks she brought back from Japan. And after lunch, I came back to a bag of banana chips on my desk.
On a day all I can pull off is a catatonic expression, food really wins.
"It's 3:56. What am I supposed to do?"
It had been been many nights of interrupted sleep, each time I found myself wide awake at an unearthly hour. The lack of sleep made the thought of work so damn dreadful. And that accumulation of fatigue put me on the brink of breaking down one too many times these days.
Today was the last straw. Wilful stupidity really makes me livid. But, like I said, food wins.
On days like this, I think about your boldness and your gutsy attitude. I think about how you'd react when I tell you about my not-so-good days. Your choice of words, the tone of your voice, the way your hands and body moved as you expressed yourself; I imagine us lying on the floor, taking turns to give Shelty belly rubs, talking and talking about everything.
"We have a lifetime ahead of us," I thought.
Well, we had a lifetime ahead of us.
It was 6:57 and on most mornings, I would have been out of the house already. Probably somewhere sandwiched in the morning rush hour.
But the reluctance to move is real these days. Instead of waking up with the drive to conquer the day, I wake up with an unexplained feeling of sadness wrapped around my bones - the kind of sadness you vaguely recognise but haven't quite learned to deal with.
"Where are you now?"
That bloody question etched in the forefront of all my thoughts. I'm not sure if it's my 7-year-old conscience haunting my 24-year-old self, or my 24-year-old self drawing out my 7-year-old conscience.
"Gone. Six feet under. Just gone."
I don't even need to remind myself. I know this all too well. But despite the hard truth engrained in my head, I still wish y'all were here on days like this.
~~~~~~~~~~
"I wonder what Papa would say if he was around. I'm pretty sure he'd tell me to tell them to fuck off, right Mama?"
17 years. Such a long time does wonders to teach you to live with void.
Truth is, I still wish you were around.
On days I come home haggard as hell from the ordeals of work, I wish you were around to tell me I'm doing a good job. On days I can't pull myself together, I wish you were around to take me in a huge embrace. On days I struggle to stay afloat, I wish you were around to hold my hand. And even if we were to wander aimlessly, I would be less afraid of uncertainty with you. On days I can't fall asleep, I wish you were around to silent the voices in my head.
I wish you were around when we have dinner together on the weekdays. I wish you were around when we go shopping in town on the weekends. I wish you were around when we go on holidays.
I hate how I can't talk about you the way others do because I don't know you. I hate how I can't remember you the way others do because I didn't have much time with you. I hate how I can't hear your voice in my head or feel your hand around mine.
It's almost laughable that I miss you more now than I did the day I lost you. And I thought I would have gotten used to your absence.
~~~~~~~~~~
As soon as I got into office, my neighbour had gotten me iced milo. A couple of hours later, my mini boss walked in with hot chocolate from Starbucks. An hour before lunchtime, a fellow colleague gifted us with snacks she brought back from Japan. And after lunch, I came back to a bag of banana chips on my desk.
On a day all I can pull off is a catatonic expression, food really wins.
"It's 3:56. What am I supposed to do?"
It had been been many nights of interrupted sleep, each time I found myself wide awake at an unearthly hour. The lack of sleep made the thought of work so damn dreadful. And that accumulation of fatigue put me on the brink of breaking down one too many times these days.
Today was the last straw. Wilful stupidity really makes me livid. But, like I said, food wins.
On days like this, I think about your boldness and your gutsy attitude. I think about how you'd react when I tell you about my not-so-good days. Your choice of words, the tone of your voice, the way your hands and body moved as you expressed yourself; I imagine us lying on the floor, taking turns to give Shelty belly rubs, talking and talking about everything.
"We have a lifetime ahead of us," I thought.
Well, we had a lifetime ahead of us.
~~~~~~~~~~
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