Hello, I didn’t expect to be here. Is this what it feels like to be dead? I see her in front of me, dead as a doornail. Her eyes have a distant look in them but still seem hollow. Her cold heart and lack of blood seems to make her body turn a tinge blue. Short black hair lay flat on her oddly shaped head, the cracks in her lips are more visible than before, skin flaking off the pale friends. My eyes slowly drift towards the cause of my creation; the two deep slits running down her arms. She didn’t have to do this, but I guess the voices finally got to her. Maybe it wasn’t the voice, maybe it was her desire to belong or her unhealthy fascination with death.
I walked around her pale, shrivelled up body and stared a little longer. I turned my attention to myself. Clad in the same clothes, the same scars ran up my forearms. I sat on the floor next to her and waited until she was found. No thoughts, no sadness, not even confusion, I just sat silently overwhelmed by what she had done.
Two long hours passed before her mother came home calling out for her. Her keys clanked against the marble top and her shrill voice pierced the stale air. When she got no response, she began to walk up the stairs. Her voice became louder, frantic even as she realised that her daughter was home but for some reason, was unresponsive. She burst through the bathroom door and saw her daughter lying there on the cold tiled floor. A blood-curling scream left her red lips, she ran out calling for help, calling an ambulance, calling her husband but she knew it was too late. There was nothing that could be done now. Her father arrived, he held on to his wife and cried for his daughter. They wept and wept for hours while I sat there, staring at them.
I didn’t understand why she had done it. But in some way, I should have. I am her, her dead self but still her. I saw how her parents held each other and cried that they could have done something to prevent it. You could do nothing, I said but I knew I wouldn’t be heard. She had orchestrated it a little too well, her parents had no clue until it was finally done. It wasn’t their fault, they provided her with everything and more. I wanted them to know that. They needed to know that.
To escape the dreary atmosphere in a place she called home, I went to the park. I saw the boy she loved weep over her demise. He had done everything to keep her sane, he made method of the madness and he understood her. He was a complicated person but never unhappy, always lightening up the atmosphere regardless of the circumstances. But there he was, wondering why it had to be this way. His black locks fell over his sunken eyes, his lips muttered the same thing over and over and his fists lay curled up by his side. I sat on the grass in front of him, wanting to reach out and hold his hand to be there for him like he had been for her.
The heartbreaking sight made me leave. I visited everyone who even cared a little about her or would be impacted. She wanted people to realise her worth, her importance. It’s a shame she had to end herself to feel content. Did I want to leave her? No, I did not. She had so much more to her than what she thought and what everyone else saw. The skin and bones I had grown in, the ones that harboured my baggage and my wounds, she was what I called home. Very literally because I resided within her for eighteen years, but she was the physical me, and I was the spirit her. Together, we created a unique human who didn’t belong among in this mundane world. Of course nobody understood her, no one was supposed to. But she couldn’t stand it. She refused to continue ahead, she wanted to find herself.
Her quest to find herself led to her destruction. Isolation, pain and alienation were familiar to her. Her old friends, she used to say. This wasn’t a way to live, this wasn’t merely existing either. Her only solution was to leave, permanently.
It’s been months since the funeral, people are learning to cope. Her mother isn’t weeping and her father isn’t blaming himself anymore. Her love isn’t sitting on the park swing wishing she was next to him but instead, the world is moving, they are moving on without her, without me.
Hello, I didn’t expect to be here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be fused with her.
That white light in the sky is becoming brighter and maybe, that is where I will finally find myself, where I will find her and her purpose.
Hello, I didn’t expect to be here. Maybe this is what it’s like to be dead.