Conversations ✔

Time

"Spending time with you is a delight." He said, his hug most lasting.

Yes, she too wished the moment never had an ending. But as the elderly say; everything that has a beginning, has an ending.

A few months had gone by, and the pair seemed inseparable.
Unfolding from the embrace, they laid back, watching the artificial personification of stars on her ceiling. His chatty mood was most welcome, sealing the hope she had of him really being present with her at that moment.

But times arrived when she couldn't help but think of the days she had to go through, accepting that he was just a figment of her imagination. Just as her therapist had suggested.
It was true then, the man was not real. She had somehow thought him into existence.

He was a human being she manifested into life through her dreams in coma.

Days like these, her therapist told her were a repetitive pattern. She told her to refrain from turning good feelings into sad ones. Diaginosed her as a downer, or with lypophrenia to be more specific.

Her sadness was rooted within her. It was a place she found solace.

So on these days, though the man was with her, she would think about how unreal he was a few months after she woke up from coma.

She thought about the times she was closely monitored because of the danger she could pose to herself and to those around her.

And those days reminded her of how she would be sad, in her dreams, when she saw his scars. His accident had shaken her then.

She was addicted to sadness even deep within her mind. As she would often think of how she almost lost him to the accident that never happened except in her head.

"We belong here. Right at this moment." He said breathlessly.

Had it not been for her deep feelings of blue,  she would have recognised his admiration of the rain. Or that his voice soothed her aching heart.

The thought of his absence...

A sob broke from her.

"Hey..." he turned like he was getting burned, watching her intently under the tiny lights decorating the ceiling.

The sobs broke from her the more she tried to make them stop, it was futile.

He engulfed her, still laying on the rug she so adored on her bedroom floor.

What else could a man do? In the presence of a million pieces of a castle falling apart? What else could a man do? Rocking her back and forth was proving to be difficult as her body shattered with every sob, her small shoulders shaking.

He hugged her, hoping the tighter he holds her, the more she would understand that he was present for her. Willing to listen, or perhaps just hold.

No questions asked, no probing, just a tight embrace as she let her pain pour through all the pores her body had.

"You've been crying for an hour now, please tell me how to make you feel better?" He asked, his voice breaking at the sight of her.

What could've brought on such a tragedy? Her whole body had shaken to exhaustion.

"Or sleep. I'll be right here until you feel better." He suggested, but she knew he had to leave soon. He could not possibly not sleep at home. His home.

"I'm sorry..." she tried to croak out, but instead a sob broke the words apart until a point of no recognition.

But he heard, and he understood. "Tell me what to do... please." This, by his tone, was tearing him apart.