The Soul's Subconscious

Chapter 3

It's a new light now. Weeks have past in a rush, spiralling into a new year. Never has weeks have been this desperate, this agonized...

When will I see you again? my inner soul is craving answers. I've lost myself and lost him. That's what it feels like. My mum's catchphrase pops into my mind just now. It's when I lose something; "I'm glad you didn't lose yourself!"

Does that mean that you're not glad now.. mum? I think I've. Your daughter is in a deep hole, buried under a grave of the unknown; my gravestone is nothing but the London sky. And it also reminds me of myself... There aren't any black writings of my name, birthday, death date. Maybe I am dead. I am dead, that's why my gravestone is still white, with no sign of black carvings. That's what I mean when I say it portrays me. It paints a picture of me, who is unknown and innocent. Maybe, white is the story of those who are unknown and forgotten because of their innocence. Lost too. Is it a coincidence?

But you know, I always have this whizzling in my so-called-genius brain. The fact that the most colourful blossoms and flowers can bloom out of brown branches and twigs; this is a sign of hope. This is God's miracle. If that is so, why shall I lose hope now? Even a branch of the colour of coffee, the colour of loneliness, blooms out a colour of beauty, blossoms of heaven.

So... why lose hope? Isn't it unfair to nature?