Sometimes as I sit down on the floor of my bedroom, I can see myself, a much younger version of me, staring back at me in the dead of night. Always near a window, in a corner of a room.
He doesn’t do much except stare. He stares. And stares. I don’t pay him much attention, even as he stares at me all night with that same expression he always wears. I always turn away. I.. become indifferent of his presence.
I pick up a pen and paper, intending to write lyrics, to compose something because that is all I am good for, it is the only thing beneficial thing I can give unto others. Because this ability is… all I have left in my life that reminds me of her and my friends, before everything changed and I moved. Moved away from my best friends who kept reminding me of what I had lost, from her who will never awaken again. I write and write until my fingers are numb and the ink has run dry. I do this every night. It’s been 3 years, and nothing has changed so far.
Then suddenly one day, I heard him ask me a question. I froze. Because he asked me something that I never dare utter in front of whatever tiny number of fans I accumulated online. That I would never dare utter in front of my acquaintances. That I would never utter in this new life I have.
I don’t forgive myself.
