Saudade

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Suicide doesn’t take away the pain; it gives it to someone else.

Submitted: May 12, 2016

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Submitted: May 12, 2016

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The sound of the birds woke me up. I closed my eyes against the sunlight that sneaks into my room. Hoping that the mere act of staying in bed longer could actually just deny the fact that I need to wake up and function for the whole day.

I didn’t want to.

I stayed in bed for another five minutes with the gnawing feeling of anxiety creeping into the pit of my stomach as usual. An uninvited guest since forever, or was it five years ago? Why?

It was not long that anxiety forced me to kick off the blanket around me and having me sat up in my bed. Why?

My bed. It feels funny saying the words. The bed was too big for me alone. Before the incident, it was a warm and cozy bed. Now it was just another piece of furniture. That took up too much space in the room. Why?

An empty feeling of dread crept and lied beside the anxiety in the pit of my stomach. Yeah, I forgot about that. They always come together. Guess this will be another one of my ‘down’ days. How do I function this way?

I pulled myself off the bed grudgingly to wash up. I let the water run through my fingers and relished at the physical sensation that I feel. Cold, running, water.

I wonder how emptiness and anxiety would feel physically.

Will it be as heavy as it felt when they lie in the pit of my stomach?

I shook my head at the thought and lifted my head up. Two empty, desolate, eyes looked back at me. Crusted, swollen, an obvious sign of crying. Really? I cried myself to sleep again last night?

I splashed some water to my face and dried it with the face towel right at the side of the sink. I stopped as I realized I was using the black towel instead of the light blue one. Another piece of memory. I continued drying my face and placed the towel back to its place. Why?

The third guest of the day arrived. The feeling of longing and missing crept in between emptiness and anxiety. I feel nauseous but I tried to ignore it. Today will be one heck of a ‘down’ day.

I dragged myself down to the kitchen for breakfast. Once I reached the landing, my heart skipped a beat when I saw the familiar coat hanging by the front door. “He’s not coming back.” Guilt suddenly whispers. I fought the urge to run upstairs and cry. The fourth guest is here for the party. Why?

Taking deep breaths, I fiercely dragged myself to the kitchen and start preparing breakfast. The four guests greeted each other as I struggled to be normal and seem normal. But the party was too loud, and I started to hate myself.

It wasn’t long before the party brought me down to my knees, as I struggled in silence to keep my head up. The glint of the knife distracted me from the party and I reached out to it. Holding the handle, I contemplated how anxiety, emptiness, missing and guilt would feel like being taken out of my stomach. I didn’t care. I just want them gone. Maybe I would function better that way.

I looked at my reflection on the knife, blurred by my tears. It was all or nothing for me. Life is becoming a chore. I should leave before it is too late.

“Mama?” a small voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked up and saw little Rainbow by the kitchen door, looking at me with big eyes. Immediately the party stopped as I saw his eyes staring back at me through Rainbow’s eyes, begging me not to do the same thing that he did.

I gently dropped the knife into the sink, and held out my arms to little Rainbow. She ran with the excitement of a 6 years old child towards me. I closed my arms around her and she breathed happily into my chest. “I want scrambled eggs for breakfast.” She requested.

“And so you shall have it.” I said, smiling a little, returning to life a little.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saudade – the feeling of nostalgic longing for something or someone that one was fond of and which has been lost; often carries a fatalist tone and a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never really return


© Copyright 2017 SL Pam. All rights reserved.

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