"When the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead
When the cloud is scattered
The rainbow's glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not.
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot."
~Percy Bysshe S...
"First our pleasures die -- and then our hopes, and then our fears -- and when these are dead, the debt is due dust claims dust, and we die too."
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To the one from the star,
My mum used to tell me that there was never a darkness so grim that the sunrise wouldn't be able to defeat.
I'd awaited that sunrise for too long, hoping for a miracle; hoping for her to come around. But she never did. I'd lost every hope. Maybe no one wants me? was what I always used to think.
But then you fell from the sky. It was like a tiny ripple of hope that had happened to crack the walls I'd built around me.
I never wanted to drive again. I didn't think I could do it again anyway. But that night, when you pulled me along, shoved me into the driver's seat and fistbumped in the air exclaiming, "Let's go!" I realised I wanted to prove I wasn't afraid anymore.
I didn't want to be afraid anymore.
John was gone. And that wound in my heart will probably never heal. But I realised I needed to learn to suppress the pain. If I didn't want people to suffocate me with their pity, then I needed to break out of my shell and stand strong before the world.
It was time I let go of the pain that weighed me down. It was time I stitched up the gaping hole in my heart, after filling it with happy memories. It was time I remember John as my brother who I loved rather than the unfortunate, six-year-old kid who died a tragic death.
"Where are we going?" you'd asked, despite the fact that you were the one who pulled me out of my house in this awfully, cold weather.
"I don't know?"
"Well..."
"You didn't let me get my beanie. My head hurts from the cold."
"It's not that cold inside the car!"
"We aren't going to sit inside the car forever, are we now?"
"Well..."
"Just tell me where we're going and I'll drive us there."
"Take me to your favourite place around this neighbourhood."
"My favourite place?"
"Uh-huh."
I didn't know a place good enough to hang out. There weren't any coffee parlours nearby either. So I turned the car and sped down the road in the opposite direction, heading towards a park that used to be John's favourite spot.
When You Love Someone blasted on the radio while you hummed along with it, as if you knew the song by heart. Your eyes had this faraway look, probing at a memory that laid beneath a pile of many recent ones.
