1096 days later. three years ago today, on the 4th of October of 2015, was a Sunday with a stark, pale, sorrowfully silent sunrise. amidst the hazy white hospital walls, my eyes fell on the clock at 6:31 — the numbers that haunted me for months and years that felt more like an eternity with every stretching second. on this damned day 1096 sunrises and sunsets ago, you left this earth and left us bereaved, broken, and without the hope of ever being whole and complete again. it’s not your fault — that i know. it’s not anyone’s fault — that, too, i know. but i’m not going to deny ever feeling seething rage at God, at myself, at life itself. there was no way to reason with this damned cycle of life in which a creature is nearing its death with every breath. it’s this unstoppable cycle that strikes with overwhelming shock rather than acceptance since it’s been happening for millennia that i just simply couldn’t accept. us humans can never get used to pain that comes with shock. we only make our homes in its aftermath — but the first strike, the first pang of indescribable pain.. that stays foreign and keeps striking with every thought, every breath.
still to this day, my eyes lifelessly freeze in place and my mind shrinks into itself and bleeds and my skin loses its color every time i’m suddenly struck with the reality that you’re not in one of the rooms of this house, that you’re not breathing the oxygen i’m inhaling in this earth. it’s even worse when i see someone that reminds me of you; a girl with pure pale skin, skinny arms and a translucently innocent face. desperate tears roll down my cheeks, but i don’t really feel them because my whole body loses sensation at the shock that i’m living again for the umpteenth time since you’ve been gone.