I didn’t know you, yet I feel that I did. Perhaps it’s because you have touched my life, albeit in an indirect way. And I had written that note to you. That’s why I could not stop myself from crying when I read about you. It stopped me in my tracks, making everything seemed so surreal for an instant. It seemed so unreal, like how things would revert back to normal once I snap out of my trance. But they don’t. They just don’t. And I never like oscillating between what’s real and what seems real. I hate it. I really do. And what are we walking towards, isn’t it nothing but just the end? With that realization, then why does anything matter at all? In the same sense, why does anything not matter at all? I know I shouldn’t say this, but I wished I could take your place.
That day, I dreamt that I smashed a glass bottle and cut myself. In the dream, my mind was in a whirl, thinking about how I was going to do it, feeling that it wouldn’t be of any pain at all. It was horribly morbid, but I didn't mean to dream it. These days, if it isn’t insomnia, it would be that my body just refuses to wake up. I can’t bloody will my body to wake up with my mind at all.
Sometimes I wonder if you’re still the person I once knew. I can’t seem to find anything to disconfirm my no. Sometimes I wonder if you’re still there. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the one who’s not here anymore. Sometimes I wonder if it’s still all the same. But I don’t dare to say it, I don’t dare to tell myself no. Because it matters to me, even though sometimes I force myself to make everything not matter anymore. Because it would be much easier, much easier if I could do it.
So I’ll shut my eyes tight, because tears won’t fall if I keep them closed. So I’ll clench my fists tight until the fingernails draw blood, because the screams would remain silent if I do so. So I’ll squat in the middle of the sidewalk, because every step forward makes me take another step backwards. So I’ll sit and stare at the rain, because the cold would chill my bones, my brain, my heart.
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