"I love you. With all my heart. To the end of the ocean and back."
◊ ◊ ◊
FEATURED BY @StoriesUndiscovered
◊ ◊ ◊
Missy is a promising student of art, drawing wherever she goes. She is just as talented as quiet and she seems too indifferent to care...
Evie was once again in the centre of my universe. With me in the centre of my universe. While I was drawing in the middle of the forest, the only perceived thing was my pen and the smooth paper, I always knew that she was there. With her company, I found true peace between the lines on the paper. With her company, I was alone without the loneliness sometimes accompanying me.
What are you drawing, Evie asked.
When you looked from afar, the piece looked like a meaningless cluster of angry scratches. I was trying a new technique then. A one where you truly must try to find the angle in which you can see the piece. Finding art in the chaos and mess. And so, I turned the sketchbook to Evie carefully.
I stared into her eyes. The moss and the light, the curiosity and care. It was an utmost fascinating thing, to see the slow and yet grandeur realisation.
It's my mom, she said.
Yes, I said.
Why, she thought.
I answered:
I've been thinking about what we did for our parents. Even though we are young. What we had sacrificed from ourselves because we love them. And I realised... nothing is simple. Ever. They are our parents. Loved by us, unconditionally. And we don't even have to try. But they were in pain. And just like any child of any parent in this world, we wanted to eliminate that pain, despite our age, lack of understanding of the world and immaturity. You and I both know what it is like to make a perhaps wrong decision because we did not know how else to kill their pain. But pain... sometimes overbeats our love.
Evie was shaking. I didn't want to move her so greatly that she would cry but if we could not be true to each other then with whom could we be honest? It was never anyone else. It was always me and Evie.
You are wrong, she whispered.
And the next was only in her mind for us to hear.
Our pain of losing them is what was beaten by our love for them.
I heard those thoughts of hers from far away. From reality and the world's mass, we were held by, I heard. The pain. The longing.
As tears fell down her cheeks, I pushed the sketchbook away, laid her head on my shoulder and held her until she felt warm in my arms.
The next day I cut out the page and placed it above my bed. Because as I stared at the grey lines, I knew she loved her daughter very much. And as I watched the path of the black lines, I knew she wished to die a little sooner. A little less with pain.
Because she was indeed dying. It was inevitable. And even though no one ever knew...
Evie was the one who freed her of this life.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
