9:42 a.m.

slowly the world fills my head and my heart as i open my eyes slowly. the shadows in the room blur and dance before i steady myself to the world, before i anchor myself to the world. before i tell myself i have to be braver today, braver so i can survive the world.

your face fills my head slowly, like spilled winter watercolors and training my head until i can't think of anything else. the dead look in your eyes, your dreary eyes, blurry eyes, misty eyes. i wonder if you're sober now. i wonder if you're still downstairs on the couch where i'd left you last night.

i remember writing poetry together in the park, i remember kissing you on the rooftop that night, when i held your hand because you were afraid. i remember being on the ferris wheel with you. i'd once thought we'd be around forever. i thought i would have cried from happiness if you ever told me you loved me, but i didn't, because i think we always knew it so it felt as natural as breathing when you said so.

but i was fool. because we never loved each other more than the mere fantasies we held in our minds. because, we don't actually know anything about each other. because i don't know your favorite color and you don't know my family line.

sometimes home is a person.

bullshit. how could i lie like that?

because home can't be a person. because if home were a person, it'd be a home collapsing over itself. it'd be made of broken ribs and bitter hearts and minds too afraid to love, minds too brave to be vulnerable. because everyone is a lost town filled with lost versions of their old selves, wandering the streets while wiping their own tears away. wiping their own tears away. because home is supposed to wipe your tears away.

and i reminisced,

of those autumn days, falling days. in the park, in the cafe, with you. when even with your empty smile you'd laugh for me, as if you meant it. you were always so sociable with everyone, yet you chose to be with me.

and i reminisced, and i remembered. and i tried to leave it all behind, all in one morning.

but i couldn't. because i still love you. because i wasn't lying when i told you i'd wait for you. because i'm a fool. because i'm a liar. because i'm selfish, and i want you back already (but i know i can't, know i can't.)

and damn. i hate waiting, but i already miss being lonely with you.

🌙

the blankets on the couch are neatly folded where you'd left them. you left not a trace behind.

outside, the snow had stopped falling. leaving remnants of fallen wings from heaven, leaving only porcelain snow. it's as if the world had died.

i walk into the kitchen. there's a pan on the stove. strange.

small piece of paper on the empty, spotless counter. a forgotten counter. i flip it open,

there was not much in your fridge.

you should really take care of

yourself more.

— j.

i open the lid of the pan, warmth bleeds against my cold face. there are pancakes stacked into a small pile, warm golden brown tones staining the dreary morning with sweet serendipity. there's a bowl of strawberries and yogurt sitting next to it.

how long has it been since i last cooked?

i dip a spoon into the strawberries and yogurt, tasting it on the tip of my tongue. i swallow.

it tasted so sweet, so familiar. so close. it makes me remember something. that day, when it was raining. and all of a sudden a memory fades me away...

i'm in the same kitchen, except now i'm seeing out of young eyes, out of the eyes of a child.

i'm eating pancakes and strawberries with mother. it's early spring, with the world still fresh and new, still sweet and cold, holding pale remnants of winter skeletons outside the window, as raindrops slip down the glass like fingertips smearing paint down canvas. watercolor sky, bleeding gray and green; water color dreams, of spring. and mother is telling me what rain tastes like.

"you should try it sometimes, you know? what rain tastes like. the people of this world, of this new generation, they get too caught up in their own mind that sometimes. they don't see the world these days. they don't smell the new leaves, they don't taste the sea spray or stop a moment to feel the wind in their hair when they walk. isn't it sad? when they ride their bikes down concrete roads while wasting their lives away. all they see is a green blur, instead of the trees," the colors in mother's eyes swirl as she speaks. it's mesmerizing, "live a little. no, actually. live a lot. live as much as you can. so that you can remember. so that you won't forget these words, or these memories. so that you won't be alone. so that you can have real dreams,"

i gasp as the memory hits me, a memory i hadn't remembered for years.

just how much has the pain made me forget?

i take another bite and the next thing i know i can't see the world anymore, because everything is blurring and there are tears in my eyes, falling down over the forgotten kitchen counter. and then i'm collapsed on the ground shaking, my sobs filling the empty house, the lonely house. how long have i been alone here? how long have i been confined here? how long?

🌙

9:02 a.m.

when i wake there's something pounding in my head over and over again. a familiar feeling.

where am i?

i open my eyes and when i do the light hurts so much it feels like drowning. drowning. drowning in a fog, my senses working in slow motion as my surroundings unfold at dizzying speed. there's no stranger next to me. i'm lying on a sage green couch that feels familiar somehow. there are a few polaroids hanging on the pale walls. the wooden staircase spirals as it goes up. it feels like home.

home.

scattered pieces of information float in my head, drowning with my broken pieces. information i don't know how to connect.

wine. liquor. beer. streetlights. home. roselin. home. roselin...

roselin.

i'm at her place. why am i at her place?

there's a sharp pain in my head when i sit up. the world flashes on the line between light and dark (though both hurt) before my vision clears slowly again.

i remember her eyes, in the inky starlight, snowlight. serious eyes, honest eyes. eyes that used to make my heart hurt from beating. but right now, there's nothing there anymore. there's no heart in me anymore. there's only the sense of empty vertigo. i've never died this hard before.

my whole body feels like it's broken when i rise. every cell in my body screams as i walk unsteadily into the kitchen.

esme. what would you say if you saw me like this? would you care? what would you say? would you make me pancakes and wash strawberries for me like you did whenever i cried? because i'm not crying tears, i'm bleeding inside. does that still count?

i open the fridge. there's barely anything in it, just a pack of strawberries, eggs, flour, and yogurt.

she only ever eats breakfast at the cafe, i remember.

and with that, i make pancakes and wash strawberries for her, as esme had once done for me.

🌙

9: 23 a.m.

i step outside, the cold numbing my aching body so instantaneously it feels like comfort. i walk over to the bench by your porch, wiping off the snow and sitting down.

the porcelain colored streets burn into my eyes, my head aching desperately. when i close my eyes, i drown again.

but i'd rather drown in the darkness than in the light.

the snow falls softly, in a deadly way. slowly, the sensation of snowflakes falling against my skin turns into raindrops and the silent world springs to sound. the sound of raindrops. the sound of crying. the sound of anguish. the sound of pain.

i'm young again. the world feels lonely, and cold. my parent's shouts ring in my head as i ran, ran outside into the rain. at some point i fall and my face scrapes against the pavement, my blood mixing with the rain. tears sting my eyes, but the rain washes them away, reminding me of how dreary the world is.

the pedestrians on the street stare as i stand. their faces twist into monsters and their criticism screams at me. why? why are they judging me? what have i done wrong? why is this happening to me?

there are voices in my head again. voices that are not mine. i've been hearing them lately.

i continue to run through the rain until the sea of people reaches its shores and i break through the tide. i leave the streets behind and the cliff is coming into view.

would i run off the world someday?

and then i stop.

because esme is standing there, on the edge. why is esme standing there?

"esme?"

she doesn't say a word. there are marks on her arms, some scars and others fresh cuts, dripping down her arms with the rain. i realize how long it's been since i saw her without long sleeves.

dizzying sensations spin through my head and the world trembles as i walk closer to the edge. i'm scared of falling.

"esme,"

the rain falls between us. i see the ocean below and for a moment darkness flashes over my vision. my heart is beating so fast it beats in rhythm with the rain.

"esme-"

"shut up,"

a feeling of dread seeps into my chest. the rain bleeds against my hurting cheek, swirling red down my face, as if my eye were bleeding. as if i'd cried all the tears out that there were only veins left to bleed. but in that moment, it didn't hurt as much as the cold. the cold in her voice.

"you know, i've always hated you," she laughed. it was a hollow sound, an empty sound. the ice in her words makes me gasp.

there's a strange feeling in my heart, as if i'd been stabbed by a million blades. but i don't feel any pain. i can't feel the pain anymore.

rain. time. drip. drip. rain. time. drip. drip. drip. drip.

she spoke again, after a few minutes staying there.

"you have no idea, how sick i feel whenever i look at you,"

rain. time. cold. cold. rain. time. cold. cold. cold. cold.

the raindrops continue to fall, slipping over my skin and drenching my hair and clothes. a sharp ache bleeds within me, along with fear. she looked back at me then. i expect to see hatred. hatred i see in father's eyes everyday.

but instead, there's only a void. and tears. tears mixing with the rain, falling down against the stones, against the sea.

"i've always wished that you didn't exist,"

she turns away again, ahead. forward. toward the sea and rocks below. her knees tremble as she stands. then, without looking back, she walks toward the edge of the cliff, and jumps.

🌙

10:11 a.m.

"auburn,"

suddenly i'm not at the cliff anymore. i'm sitting on the bench, my head beating so hard i can't hear my heartbeat anymore.

it's stopped snowing.

a face appears above mine. roselin.

"what time is it?" my voice is only a whisper.

"10:11. how long have you been here?" there's concern in her eyes. they shine midnight blue here, in the gray cold. they hold a serious look in them. beautiful.

"i was... i was remembering,"

her gaze feels like wind and rain, with the way it finds me for me. like an anchor.

"it's cold. please come in,"

so cold. it's as if i was really there again, in the rain. i'd forgotten that day, till now. maybe it hurt so much it made me forget.

but now, as i remember it, i can't feel it anymore.

"okay,"

she takes my arm, guiding me carefully up the porch steps. i anchor myself against her as we walk, as i continue to drown in that memory.

🌙