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And the universe may collapse around me, but I promise, that I'll still love you.
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Just close your eyes.
If I close my eyes, and I let my mind roam free, I can almost hear the train roar.
I can almost feel the wind, hitting my face, the adrenaline from tempting an unstoppable force.
But I was beyond unstoppable, we both were, we'd be the craziest artists in all of history and the world would be our canvas. I never told you this, but there were times where I would picture myself, stopping the train with nothing but my bare hands.
I remember us both, laying by the saturated green of the summer grass, looking at the sky - we talked - for hours on end, we talked until the Sun itself hid, we talked about the taste of the clouds, what'd we do once we moved to Luna, and whether or not apples and pears were or weren't the same.
(They're still not by the way.)
I remember the goofiness of your smile, I remember that being the first time I found myself wishing I could kiss you..
And remember…
If I close my eyes, and I push myself a little, I can almost smell them, the extra butter popcorn you loved so much.
Only an old soul would get popcorn for movie snacks, but I didn't judge. I never told you this, but I did like them, I still do, the butter smelled too strong and I'd get grease all over my hands and snout, but they were great - when I ate them by your side.
I remember us both, laying by the comfortable wine red of your bedsheets, the autumn rain knocking gently on the window, a horror flick was playing on the wall, but my mind tuned it to the background, the plot monotone enough to bore even the most dedicated fan.
Whispering, you asked me a very particular question, I don't even remember what, only that it was particular, and that my eyes opened like plates the moment the words left your mouth.
You made the first step, like you usually do. I didn't know what to do, how to react, the only thing I knew is that whatever it was, I didn't want it to stop.
That I'll be with you.
If I close my eyes, and I push a little harder, I can almost feel your lips, connecting with mine, I can almost feel the surprise again, followed by the confusion, followed by euphoria.
I can almost feel your hands holding on to my shoulders, like you were scared that the moment you let go, I would simply vanish.
And I can almost feel the firmness with which those exact same hands proceeded to push me against the bed, I can almost feel my own hand sneaking under your shirt, timidly drawing circles on your stomach, then resting on your chest, I can almost feel the softness of your monochromatic fur.
I can almost feel your heart, beating.
But "almost" is not enough.
No.
If I close my eyes and I hold them shut I can almost hear the people clapping, all around us, the students trying not to bicker between themselves and the families on the seats celebrating as every student walked to the podium and gave their speech.
I can almost hear them calling my name, and feeling all those butterflies in my stomach, I was nervous, but I was happy, who knew a historic paper could take me so far? War, illness, and that time people almost went extinct, saved by immortality, God bless the age-reversing jellyfishes, right?
I remember it clearly, standing by the strong yellow lights that illuminated the podium, saying the things that I had been waiting so long to say. You were there, in the croud, looking at me, you were happy for me, you were proud, but looking directly into your eyes, my smile faltered.
And I know I shouldn't have felt that way, not when you were so happy, not in one of the happiest days of my life, but I couldn't help it, because I knew how much you had wanted to graduate yourself, because I knew you were never allowed the same opportunities as me, because I knew how much it had hurt when your Father looked you in the eyes, and told you he was disappointed in you.
I wish I had done more, told you how much you meant to me, how proud I was of you, but I stayed quiet, unable to quiet down my own thoughts.
Not yet!
If I close my eyes, and I refuse to let go, I can almost catch that "new furniture" smell, new house, new beginning, right? I was admittedly happy, we'd finally be moving together, and you would need to deal with your shitty family no more.
It wasn't Luna yet! but we were getting there, properties in the famous sattelite were just a little more expensive.
I never told you this, but you did snore in your sleep, not the quiet snores either. I forgave you though, how could I have ever gotten mad at the guy who wore apple-stamped pajamas? The sun rays would slowly creep in through the wine red curtains, tinting the whole room red, I'd look to my right, and I found comfort in knowing that you would always be there, peacefully enjoying your (rather-long) slumber, your chest would rise, air filling your lungs, then came the exhale, then repeat.
Luna offered great sights, but you were the sight that I wanted to see for the rest of my life, the rest of eternity.
Everything felt right for once, we'd play those dumb augmented reality horror games with the glasses, the chairs, and everything, I'd try my best with my apples pies - which weren't as good as your mother's, but I'd always end up delighting myself in the leftovers… (whenever you weren't looking.)
but it wasn't alright, it wasn't even okay, was it?
I remember laying by the inky black of our bedsheets, drowning in my loneliness, longing for you to come home from work, then the smell hit me, almost chemical - funnily enough, it reminded me of bananas, the smell then hit stronger, like a cry for help, like it had been begging me for so long to notice, but it was only now that I was able to see. I looked under the bed, finding all of your medicines spilled, Clonazepam, fluoxetine, wellbutrine, you name it, boxes empty, bottles spilled, pills crushed, I didn't exactly remember what dose your psychiatrist had given you, but I was certain that wasn't it.
We "talked" that night, I yelled at you, like I never had before, silent tears rolled down your eyes as you stood there, letting me berate you, I don't know if your tears were from shame, sadness, anger, or what, but I was plenty angry, angry that I hadn't noticed, angry at the possibility that you were trying to end your own life, I was scared, scared that the moment I looked away - you would vanish, I was scared of losing you, I didn't know what to do, I still don't."
Please.
If I close my eyes, and I beg myself, I can almost feel your arms hugging me, squeezing me, in the sleepless nights, I can feel you burying your head in my shoulder, the tears wetting my yellow fur. I can hear your sobs, your silent screams.
If I close my eyes, I can almost feel the shivers running down my spine, staring into your eyes, that no longer have the glow they used to have, you say everything's okay - but I know it isn't, and I don't know how to fix it, I don't know how to fix you.
I can tell, when you look yourself in the mirror, when you don't finish your plates anymore, when your VR set is gathering dust, when I wake up, and you've gone to work early.
I beg you, to talk to me, to tell me what's wrong, but you just look into my eyes, and what I see terrifies me, is there even anything else left to be said?
Until the end of times.
Then you started talking again, like a switch had been flipped.
I wanted to ask, I SHOULD have asked, but I was scared that if I did, you would just revert back, hurt again. I just cherished those brief moments, having my husband back by my side.
"I need to leave home for a couple days, Mom's having trouble in jail again."
"Cynthia's coming over, so you won't be by yourself."
"Don't you worry, yeah? I'll be back before you know."
"I love you."
"Love you too."
If I close my eyes, and I reject reality, I can almost hear the high barritone of your voice, I can hear you speaking to me in Spanish again, I can smell you, on the bed, on the car, I can put some of your perfume on me, and pretend that you're there with me, in the room, I can feel you, your hands holding mine, your lips kissing mine - even if it's for the last time, your arms wrapping around my body and you telling me that everything will be alright, that it was all just a bad dream, I can see your white hairs, on the bedsheets, on my clothes, on myself, on the floor, that I haven't bothered to sweep yet. I can be in peace, knowing that you're there.
Open your eyes, Samson.
But then I open my eyes, and I'm back to that same horrible reality, the one where you blew your brains out.
And all I hear is Cynthia's quiet sobs through the phone, the heavy silence as she struggles to find words.
And all I smell is the vague scent of your blood, coming out of the house, as if to taunt me.
And all I feel is that knife stabbed in my heart, the officer's hands, preventing me from entering my own home.
And all I see is Luna, through the windshield. You would've told me not to drive in this state, and on that part, autopilot's got me covered, but it's not like the urge to suddenly swerve and let myself fall into the void isn't there.
How can I ever move to Luna, knowing that you'll never get to see it? How can I ever eat another bowl of popcorn, knowing that I won't be able to share it with you? How can I ever watch another movie, eat another pie, play another game, sleep another night? How can I ever love again? Eternity doesn't feel worth it, not if you're not there, not if you're not here.
The last cemetery in the city closed ages ago, your parents wanted to throw you into a mausoleum in the outskirts, they call it a mausoleum, but it's just a hole where they throw bodies, decayed, and decaying, I told them to burn you instead, I still have your ashes, I hope it wasn't painful.
I wanted to drive back to the train tracks, where we first met, hear the train roar one last time, feel the wind hitting my face, say goodbye, but I'm not ready.
I want to forgive you, but I'm not ready.
I don't know if I'll ever be. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself either.
but I hope that you can forgive me, I hope, that even if it's from a distance, you get to see Luna's grandiose white glory, wherever you are, if you still are.
It's beautiful.
And so were all those good moments with you.
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