Anxious feeling, eyes that I could not let go, a tragic emptiness.
It was nothing, yet everything that makes me feel sick and miserable now that I woke up and realised it was a reflecting dream.
Small museum with big reputation.
Many people came to see the spectacle.
I missed it out since I was sleeping, yet more than anyone else I was present.
The spectacle, it was me, I was sleeping in a tiny box of glass.
People from around the whole world came here, just to see me sleeping.
What would they think as they observed my sleep?
Why would they pay to see me sleep?
And the most curious of all, how did I for gods sake end up in this box?
Sleeping and sleeping unconsiously for alot of time being unaware of the situation, not even noticing the tiniest bit of the huge crowd that was surrounding me.
How long had this been going on? 1 day? 1 week? 1 month? To me it felt like eternity, but in the end it had been 77 days.
First sign of consiousness is what I started to exposure to the outside world.
My eyes, softly and carefully I started to open them, with so much care as if not taking my time might cause harm.
Faces of all kind, looking at my direction.
Scary scary faces, judgmental eyes fixed on every breath that I take.
I look around, I want to scream for help.
Then I see this face, this extremely familiar looking face.
This face, the only one with eyes looking as if they are ment to offer me comfort.
I can’t let go, those eyes, suddenly I feel half unconsious again, and for this instant I forget about all the faces.
He notices, he knows I am staring back, but this does not seem to give him any motivation to look away.
He keeps looking at me with always the same glance in his eyes, the one that is offering me comfort.
Made up scenes, not the current reality. Nothing of this was real, except for one thing, those eyes.
Those eyes belonged to him, the person I have been most fond of.
Even so, in the end I did it, I left.
When i was the most fragile, when I needed him the most I left.
Was it in order of protection? Was it my fear to drag him into my misery that made me do this? Or was it just the fear of exposing such a vulnerable part of myself to him?
I don’t know, I assume both.
How would he been doing today?
Loving someone else, experiencing the feeling of joy?
My body is trembling, I feel sick, and need to know what is going on.
I guess I have been carrying this feeling from the moment that I left, but I tried to deny it, to hide it, to supress it.
Today it escaped, all these feelings that have been multiplying inside me, all at once popped up to the surface.
These feelings seem to be the force that is mastering my body and thoughts. I can’t think clear anymore.
I want to call him, to go to his house, but nothing of this is possible now.
There it must be night at this very moment.
When I left, I left for good, to a whole new continent.
It was definitely a mistake, and I would like nothing more than going back.
Even so, I can’t, every inch of my heart desires this option, but something stands in the way, something stops me, the thing called fear.
I calm down a little, search for a pen and start to write.
You, do you sometimes think of me?
Are there days when I spontaniously pop up in your mind?
I am sorry if it did hurt you alot, even though I don’t want you to suffer my selfish heart is hoping that still a little part of you is holding on to me, not giving up.
Hey, I will come back okay? Just wait for me, I need to pass this tunnel before.
I have to do what I should have been doing long ago, before I left.
I will pass this dark tunnel, I will fight with my demons of fear, with my demons of anger, with everything that is hurting my soul.
I promiss you, I know it might take some time, but once I have defeated, once all these symtons are gone, when I am healed to the fullest and the only thing remaining is a beautiful clean and sane soul I will come back.
I will be able to respond to those comfort giving eyes.
I will come back and offer you everything I should have offered you from the start.
© Copyright 2016 araukie. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Non-Fiction
Poem / Memoir
Miscellaneous / Romance
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