your loss, not mine | Sooshu

I don't think there's any space.

Soojin

24 October 2016

The taste of Shuhua's name still rattles Soojin's mouth. Their burn still haunting her like a graveyard of broken promises, of unkept secrets. Soojin would drown out a whole cup of espresso down her throat just to ease the burning Shuhua had left her. But she would end up clawing at her neck because she could no longer scratch at what was making her so empty.

Soojin rolls to her side, the empty space beside her doesn't scream anymore. Just a shallow aching, a hollow reminder, an empty auditorium that swoons with echoes of a heartbeat. She brings out her phone, and types yet another message she would never send.

'good morning baby, i know you're busy, i know you don't want to hear from me but the sun looks like the fresh bloom of your cheeks when you're laughing, and i can still hear the rising of the city smoke in my ribs where you planted your name.'

Slowly, she sits up and gets out of the bed, and letting her bare feet quiver in the chilly morning air. She finds herself looking at the cabinet, remembering the way they helped each other dress. The way Shuhua laughed at Soojin's house clothes – I didn't expect you to own a cute onesie! – and smile lovingly. The way they would— Soojin shakes her head out of those memories. It wasn't good to linger on them for far too long.

She walks towards the bathroom, even after a month she could still smell a hint of her. Still feel the entire presence of what's already over. She turns the faucet, listening to the water run as she stares at her reflection. And, instead, she sees more ghosts.

Slender fingers running through her long hair, as they expertly brush and curl it the way she likes. Laughter with red lipstick marking each other – reluctantly cleaning up – before they went out.

"I told the sky about you while i was having breakfast.
it said -she is rapture on your neck. she is the sun kissing the moon with everyone watching, she is arrow backpedaling, she is greek god eros in human embodiment-."

Soojin breathes hard, and stares at the bits of Shuhua she could never get back.

27 September 2016

The first cut is always the hardest. Soojin would have never, in a million years, thought she would fall down this rabbit hole. She would dip the blade down the soft patch of skin and watch a garden bloom on her arm. Twisted understanding the obsession with pain that some people have. The drive to feel something, anything, other than the numbing dullness inside of her.

She tells herself that her wrist is a temple, already old but still beautiful. She doesn't convince herself that her sun is still sitting on the square of her shoulders. She's still alive but she's only gotten colder.

Was that not good enough to bleed out Shuhua's love?

She waits for her bestfriend  to understand. She tells her over dinner, where the chicken has gone cold, and her stomach is full of ghosts. She is quiet. Her hands are shaking, and she counts off the last second before she speaks.

"Do you want to go to therapy?"

Soojin shakes her head no, her chest crumbling inside her body. Minnie sighs, echoing in the room that Soojin insists on staying at. "Here's the thing: the more you care, the more it hurts. I'm not telling you to stop caring, that's inhumane. I know how much you love her. But you shouldn't overthink. You should move on."

The red lines are still fresh, however dried. Standing out against her soft skin.

"Sometimes," Soojin looks down at her forearm "I run my thumb over my knuckles, and pretended it was Shuhua doing it. Sometimes, I wonder why she'd left me, but then I remember,"