Black spots & egg shell white walls.
Each breath, is shallow.
So shallow that his rib cage doesn’t even rise and fall as per normal. So he just continues to lie down, staring at the ceiling whilst unconsciously looking into the abyss. Each spot on the ceiling reminds him of the complexities of the universe, like that unique spot of black on egg shell white walls could be another universe, like how he alone could be a spot on a wall in some other guys house in the universe somewhere. Instantly he feels insignificant, and weak. It’s too dramatic to say as much, but he feels like he is close to death, though he coughs harshly and blurs that thought out of his mind.
He’s just heartbroken, that’s all; he dictates to himself. He has been in this state for a very long amount of time, to which three seasons passed by almost too quickly. Loneliness and heartbreak, he ponders, is what he has and hates to welcome around.
What a dictation, a semi-transparent revelation of human ineptitude.
A dictation that really seems to resonate loudly within himself, like the waves of a large bell that was just struck, it reverberates this force for quite sometime with no sign of decaying.
He slumps over and turns to his side, finally catching a large cold gust of air into his lungs and looks to the side of the bed where she would usually be. A sigh expelled quickly from him, as he brushes his hand across a ghost silhouette of her frame.
He misses her deeply.
The concept of the universe is then dispelled, the world is small; so very small indeed, since he only desires the plot of existence that really mattered to him, the tender embrace of the one.
Memories flood and attack him. The precious moments drenched in sunlight of a time where he felt alive. Her laugh. Her smile. Her eyes. Her unique ways with the world… He adored it and horribly missed it. She was it.
His universe.
“She’ll be back, if i want her. And I… I really do. I just need to get up” he chokes out whilst stiffing harsh tears that stung his nostrils.
He was right.
What he needed was to fight the atrophy and rust that settled on him after she left that fateful day, and shake off the cobwebs of his defeat and become a new man;
The man she once fell in love with.
Because if there ever was anything worth reawakening, it’s the pursuit of love with a destined soulmate. The butterflies when he sees her. The energy of their first kiss.
He didn’t know where the burst of life came from, but he liked it, he threw away his decrepit old self and casually ran a bath and had a shave.
- heart missing?
(Wow. No idea where this came from, but recently I’ve been re-reading a book called “Incendiary” [Chris Cleave] about a woman who loses her family, and I think that has a great amount to do with this latest post)





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