|"He just didn't wake up from his sleep."
After my parents told me that my beloved died soon after I woke up, I didn't know if I was going to laugh on such silly joke or if I would give them a frown face for annoying me that way. They forced me to stand up from my bed to talk about anything...I mean, everything about him. My heart started to beat so fast like it was running on a very long marathon. I could not believe anything they said. They asked me if he was possessing some unusual behavior when we were together, and I shouted, "No!" 16 hours ago since we fought about nonsensical things like he never exerted even a bit of effort to make me happy and accused him dating someone else.
But now, I would fight with no one. Because he's dead...seemed he was experiencing his freedom that he couldn't feel and find when he was with me. Perhaps, he was dancing with the angels and was laughing like I'd never heard from him before. Maybe, he had a good time while chit-chatting with God and thanking him that his wish was granted...to free himself from me.
At first, I didn't know how to step my foot forward as I wanted to get closer to him. His body was laid in their home...that home where he first introduced me to the people important to him. I could feel him right there...his presence. He was standing beside me and hearing his whisper, "No matter how many times we fight, I still love you, baby." Sigh. I was not afraid of dead, cold bodies. I was not having a trauma on seeing dead lying on their coffins, lifeless and sleeping like mannequins. But to him, I was afraid. Not because I was imagining him open his eyes while lying in peace like in horror movies, but because I could not see myself living without him. Step by step, I reminisced the moments we shared together. Step by step, I could see his smile and hear his voice. Step by step, I felt his touch as if he was with me. And step by step, I was hearing his voice last night...the very last time he defended himself that he dated no woman, that he loves no one, but only me.
Seeing him when I glanced at his coffin, I saw a very gentle young man who was once loved by me. I wanted to embrace him and to tell him to wake up...that all the scenarios I'd encounter that very hour were just dreams. His face was enveloped with serenity as if he died happily and peacefully. The optimistic aura of him made me burst my tears. Why was he so glad to be dead? Was he really happy because he would not be with me? Was he so excited to go to Heaven leaving me with this misery? Does he miss me? :'(
It's like a needle that continuously pricking my soul...my whole existence.
I love him like Edgar Allan Poe loved that "Annabel Lee."
I love him like Juliet loved Romeo.
I love him as if I am a poet and he's my poetry.
I love him like the waves embrace the seashore.
I love him like the clouds protecting humans from the heat of the sun.
I love him now as if I am dying...
as if I want to stay on the ground where he was imprisoned.
Then, I get a knife,
cut my pulse,
and embrace the soil covering him.
I can breathe no more,
my sight becomes darker and darker,
I wake up with eyes full of tears, sweating...sobbing.
I stare at nothing, catch breath, and pray.
My phone rings and I answered it,
"Hi baby, good morning! How's your sleep?" :) ♥
"I had a nightmare, and...."
"Then, let's go to church later. Okay? I love you." :)
I sob a while when I realized he's really alive.
Thank God that my previous adventure is not merely true.
Maybe, it's just God's way to show me that I should not take him for granted.
That without trust, our relationship will eventually end.
He shows me what it really feels without the person who always loves and understands you...that I must appreciate the person He sends me to make my life more meaningful and worthy.
Now, that he's on my side, I realized, "Oh, how I really love this man!"
Physically, he's so alive...full of faith, hope, sincerity, and love.
But I was the one who tortured and killed him before.
My words hurt like blades, my eyes look at him like an unbeatable monster."
I killed him inside.
But he continues to live to save me from the miserable, cruel life I have.
He's an angel in disguise.
He died, but dying always makes him more genuine and alive.
I'm with him now.
Holding his hand, with a balloon on my other hand,
and free it as if the bad dream will definitely fade away.#