I lay on the floor hugging a guitar, tears dried on my cheek, eyes swollen and throat dry. My heart was barren of hope and belief when the morning light trickled into my room. You have not slept for three days, you have not eaten for three days, and you have not moved from the time you heard the wretched news, told my mind. I cannot do anything, I cannot go there, I cannot walk the length and breadth of this house where his footprints are, where his smell is, where his laughter is heard, I cannot live in this world without him. I might tamper something and lose his memory. I want to die and so I do what I am doing and I will continue doing it until I die and reach him, replied my heart.
Cry all you want but get back to living. Just please go and eat something. I was not sure if this was my mind or my stomach. But I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen that made me cringe. The cringe turned to snivelling and there I was crying again.
On a normal day, he would wake up before I did and cook the breakfast. With headphones in his ears while his iPod played his favourite songs, he would make our lazy bread toast breakfast. And then he would sit next to me with his laptop on, watching some random videos or playing games. I would wake up when I finally have the mind to do so and see his beautiful face and the naughty hair fall on his forehead, his deep dark eyes that can penetrate into me and read my deepest, darkest secrets fixated on the computer screen. I would grab him by his arm to get his attention. He would keep his laptop aside and snuggle with me in the blanket. I would kiss him and kiss him again and kiss him until I get tired. He would come closer to me and start tickling me while I laugh like a baby and try to push him away, he would pull me closer to him and kiss. Those long wet kisses that I am longing for right now, I would bite his lips and hurt him a little, only a little because I cannot do that to him. He would declare it is war and we will have our morning pillow fight. When I am tired and give up he would point his finger in the direction where he has kept the tray, the breakfast and my morning coffee.
I let out a wail. Life is so unfair! I screamed. What am I doing here? What is this world without him? Where are you? Why did you leave me behind? I screamed into the emptiness again.
I got up and walked towards the kitchen. Why should I live when he is not around? How can I live when everything around me reminds me of him? Where will the queen go if her fortress is invaded? How is she a queen anymore when all her riches and luxury are stolen? How am I complete without him? My soul is burning and my heart is crushing, my body is aching every moment I am alive. This guitar in which he played songs for me, that bed where we have had sex a thousand times until now, the coffee mug in the kitchen that reads our sun signs, the playstation at our living room or the dining table on which we sat in one chair and had our dinner. How am I supposed to move on when I am broken? When my world has shattered and my dreams have been killed. When God has become cruel and killed him when he deserved to live. Let me live when I belong to him. When God thought that we belong to different worlds when we were one soul trapped in 2 bodies. How am I supposed to drag the broken half around? How am I supposed to live without him?
I took the knife and cut my wrist. I saw the blood streaming out of the veins. It was a pleasant sight. To see the blood streaming down your hand and staining the white floor, one dot, two dots and finally when there was a big patch of red on the floor. My blood! I am dying! I thought as I smiled and faded away into darkness.