My first time was only months ago, when I was 18 going on 19. Her body was still warm, my mom was by her side, tearing profusely while screaming for her. I didn't detect any difference at all, she was almost motionless for almost a month already. I refuse to believe my eyes.
For a moment, I understood how one's heart can actually 'think', because for once, my heart overruled my brain to be in denial.
That week, I had trouble being near her, but I missed her. I've never seen anyone in that state, and to add to it, some1 really close. I'm not scared, it just hurts too much. For those few days I needed some1 beside me whenever I visited her. I'm just not strong enough.
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A few hours ago, just months after the first time, I encountered round 2. It was hard to handle, especially when it's somebody who's only 1 year younger. She chose to end it all at her aunt's lift lobby. I guess she needed some1 to bring her to her family.
Hearing her aunt telling others the scene of her act makes me tremble. Then, the thought of letting go and ending my story flashed across my mind. It felt good.
But seeing the grieve of her family erased bliss from my mind. The thought of her family clearing out her belongings brings me back to memories from the (not too long ago) past.
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It still bothers me that the room is now totally different from what it was for the past 10 years. And I've never dared to admit that I've been dragging time to move in. Relatives will ask how's my new room, and I'll always try to change the subject.
I miss her so much.
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