Love and Death

It was the strangest sensation. The sudden and startling awareness of my existence. My surroundings, muted and haunting. The air rushing past and the ghostly whispering of the wind caused my mind to lurch and fumble to make sense of what was going on. Panic exploded in my mind, as the fog faded and I realized I could not remember who I was, or where I was for that matter. The sluggish nature of my mind only coaxed more panic from my reeling mind, leaving me with a sense of dread. The answers to my questions felt as though they were just out of reach. It could be likened to the feeling of a limb that had fallen asleep or a name of someone that you could not recall. It was uncomfortable and made me want to flee.

               Grasping to rationalize this strange experience, my mind sought an explanation. Erratic thoughts danced about in my mind. It settled on what seemed like the most likely explanation. Amnesia. I had fallen and hit my head. It was simply a case of vertigo that could be the cause of this dizzying feeling. I simply needed time to recover my wits. And with that came a moment of calm that allowed the world to come into focus, and with that, another wave rocked me to my core.

               As I took in the sights before me, I realized something was off. The world. It looked different than I remembered. Colder. Harsher, but in a way that words would struggle to express. There were dark shadows of grey and black growing from a number of harsh angles. There were bright lights of blues, reds, greens, oranges, and more. Their origins overwhelmed me, as they slowly shifted their shapes. It felt like a reluctant change. Darting around with growing alarm, I realized that the surface of everything was glistening. It was raining.

               With this revelation, I realized that rain was not the only thing falling. I was falling too, and it was not the lights that were shifting. It was me. I was in free fall. The only thought that roared in my head was one of survival. Reaching for my chest, I hoped that I would find a parachute as my mind worked to rationalize the situation. Maybe this was just some unexpected blackout, and I was some adrenaline junkie who was dealing with hypoxia. Maybe this situation was not so bad.

               Nothing happened.

               Confused, I tried again to move my arms, and again, nothing happened. Tearing my attention away from the harsh neon lights that danced about around me, I cursed and insisted that it was some symptom of hypoxia or maybe I had been drugged or was dreaming. I tried to look over my body to check for injury and realized I was unable to do so. It was as though I had lost control. It was then that I realized I did not feel like I had a body at all. No sense of self beyond my ever more maddening mind. Paralysis. But I could feel the air? I could feel the heaviness of the moisture around me. I could feel my own warmth radiating from within. It made no sense! Another wave of mounting panic. Something was very wrong.

               Trying to calm myself, I told myself to focus on my breathing and work towards a solution. I was met with a new problem. I found that I was unable to breathe as well. A morbid thought dashed across my mind: ‘What would kill me first?! The lack of oxygen or the impact with the ground.’ Panic surged in my mind, and my attention dashed around this strange world, seeking some window into what was happening as I blinked in the hopes of clearing my mind and willing myself to breathe.

               With a sudden and cacophonous boom, lightning lit up the night sky, banishing the shadows and lights alike, but only for a moment. It was raining. Unsure what to do with this new bit of information, my mind now understood the moisture in the air question. A grim thought then followed: ‘Maybe it will be the lightning that gets you on your way down.’

               Death, doom, or oblivion. What wonderful choices I was being given, and for what? What had I done to end up here? What terrible deed could be equal to this penance? I remembered countless memories where a night like this would be considered perfect. The pitter patter of the rain against the roof, the inspiring and melancholic rumble of distant thunder, and the chaotic and impassioned flashes of lightning against the backdrop of angry skies were all fond memories. The simplicity of experiencing them with a good book in a safe space and with those who love and accept you. There was nothing better. What I was now experiencing was the furthest thing imaginable to such peaceful experiences. This was a perversion of some sacred part of my lived experience.

               A surge of panic washed over me once more as the contrast between the experiences became clear. Another flash of lightning illuminated the sky. No? It was not the sky. There were people. I realized I could hear music, and the hum of life. I was not falling, or was I?

               Some small part of my mind attempted to offer me some peace by rationalizing that lightning was no longer a concern, but the growing gloom countered. ‘Only death and oblivion. What lovely options.’

               Shadows and the scattering of light filled the vacuum after the flash of lightning faded. Seeking again to problem solve the situation, my mind was again torn away by the shifting lights with a foreboding promise of some dark fate. An eerie chill followed. Refocusing, my gaze continued to process this unfamiliar world and seek solutions. There was some inexplicable resolve that yet stirred in me. The alienness of the world made it feel more and more like a dream, but it felt like a lie to call it so.

               The wind shifted and intensified before, yet another roar of thunder and a flash of light burst forth. In that moment all the chaos of shadow and light retreated and what I saw was clear, and yet it filled me with confusion and horror. I was looking down at a hand that was holding a phone. There was a photo of a woman. She was beautiful. She was familiar. A wildfire ignited in my mind and all my memories flooded back in an instant. I knew who I was. I recognized my hand. I knew the reason I held it so tightly, and I understood now why I was overcome with panic and confusion.

               The screen clicked, and the woman was gone. In her place were harsh reflections that seemed too out of perspective. I saw the harsh light, and made note that red was the primary color. That seemed important for some reason. I could also see the reflection of myself, and the tears in my eyes. I was unable to recall how long I had been weeping, and the discomfort caused me to redirect my focus. Again, the perspective was all wrong. Warped. Twisted.

               Then it hit me. I was not seeing from the perspective of the man, and it had not been the rain that I had been seeing. It now seemed so obvious. As though the universe had some cruel sense of humor and had been taking jabs at me this whole time. It was raining, and I too, I was not unlike that rain, but I was also so much more. I was seeing from the perspective of the man’s tears as they fell. I was the part of him that he had given to her.

               It did not make any sense. It went against everything I knew. It was an afront to everything a rational mind could accept. What I saw was impossible. I was faceless and shifting and many. I was sorrow and I was peace. I was shattered. Consciously aware of the impossibility of the situation, I felt like I was about to faint, and yet I knew it was so.

               ‘It had to be a dream!’ screamed my mind.

               As much as I wanted to believe it to be the case, I simply could not will myself to go along. It was not like one of those dreams where you question whether or not you are dreaming. It was more visceral, akin to an unmistakable touch when someone bumps into you on a crowded street. There was too much going on. It was too loud. It did not feel like any dream I had ever had. I felt sad, scared, confused, but there was also an undefinable sense of understanding growing in me as I fell. I was consciously aware of the fate of tears. I would crash, and I would die.

               A sort of clarity seemed to settle in at that moment. I understood what I was and why I was. It was not altogether an unpleasant clarity, and yet it left me with a pit of sorrow that was vast. And with that I collided with the black screen of the phone. It was enough, and the darkness was banished. Replaced by her face. Frizzy brown hair. Captivating blue eyes. That relaxed way she always held herself. Beauty, peace, and heartbreak all in one image. In one person.

               As I now rested on the phone, with her image warming my being, I focused on the man. Myself? My former self? Pleading for my sanity I thought that perhaps this was some rare out of body experience. It felt very final, whatever it was. Watching the man, I focused on his pain and his obvious heartbreak. He sat sullen and defeated. He had no answers that could give him peace. He was wearing a black hat that concealed most of the pain on his face as he stared at the phone in his hand. At me. But I was a ghost now. He looked past me. At her, or rather, the memory of her that her image inspired. It was clear he was unaware of my presence. It appeared as though he did not know how to proceed. How to heal. It was now his road to walk I realized. I also realized that he, like myself, loved her dearly.

               He really was a good man if a bit boring or overly tedious at times. He should not have felt this way or know this hurt. He had known this pain before, and yet, it had come for him again all the same. Watching him in his sorrow, I asked a question to the infinite. Why do things have to be as they are? Why does so much pain need to exist in the world? As I rested on her image and empathized for my former or was it ‘future’ self, a man and woman who had been watching him stood.

               The woman approached him and asked if he was okay. It was awkward to see a version of myself being pitied by a stranger. Self-pity never sat well with me. I looked away to avoid the strain of the situation, and that was all it took. My own pain lanced through me like something had pierced my heart. Whatever had occurred, it was fatal. I was not long for this melancholic world, and with that revelation, I felt nothing and everything all at once. It was my very own morose eureka moment. The apple that fell on Newtons head. I was a fading echo of the man that I had just been looking at. A version that was to be terminated. A splintered piece. An unsustainable form that was not meant to survive in this reality. I was the love he bore for her. I was the devotion he felt for her. I was the ‘him’ that was forged in her warmth. I was the part of him that had been severed when she said those words that broke him, or rather, us.

               How many times had this happened before? Was it every love that everyone ever knew? Did it only occur with profound loss? Was it an out of body experience? Was it a divergence of consciousness? Was this some form of magic that existed within the soul? Could he be something other than human? Was this death? What came next? Answers evaded me and anything seemed possible except a life with her.

               Realizing this, I, clothed in only my now remembered misery and heartbreak, took in my surroundings. It was beautiful and terrible. There was an abundance of bright color, sweet smells coming from all the late-night food shops, and even the noise of laughter could be described as hopeful and pleasant. Still, I was no longer a naïve fool. I saw the other side to my surroundings. The deceit in the false promises of the bright lights, the scents of piss and refuse in the streets, and even the chatter from the people as they moved about was filled with venom and resentment.

               Had I always had such clarity? A whisper from deep within suggested that I did. Glancing back at the man, he was avoiding looking at the person who had checked on him. He was assuring her that he was fine, smiling and struggling to sell her the lie. He was not fine, but I somehow seemed to know that he would have the strength to be well again. One day. He wanted to be left alone. Why couldn’t he say that and be done with it? I realized that I understood though. He was hurting in much the same way I was. Maybe more. I was something else. Something…unnatural. An echo of what was or what could have been. He bore the full weight of all his losses, and I but one.

               Exhaustion began to overtake me, and I became aware of how bittersweet it was to have known existence so briefly. My end was upon me. There was a strange calm that contrasted starkly with what I had felt not so long ago as I fell from the chaos of light and shadow. Before I let myself hear those words one last time, I reflected once more on this strange fate that was before me. I knew that the version of me that now existed in the man was hurting, but I also knew he would endure any burden. Though I was only an echo of him, it somehow was enough, and there was a profound peace that settled over me. He may be devastated and heartsick, but he would not betray his beliefs. He learned the cost of that long ago and swore to never again make such a foolhardy compromise. I felt proud of the man. He had learned to carry both his shame and regret, as well as his pain, and he still somehow managed to allow himself to love and to hope. Even now I knew as I watched him weeping, I recognized the resolve. There were embers within his heart that were burning for the love he knew he deserved and hoped to find one day, just as much for the love he had known in her. Our blue eyed darling. I knew he would not allow himself to be hardened and darkened by the cruelty of the world. The world that was no longer my world.

               And so I, content with having known my love, however brief it may have felt, allowed myself to hear her words one final time as I slipped free from the surface of the phone. From her warmth, as desolation overtook me, I again thought of the beauty that existed in her and that knowing her heart for any breadth of time was enough, and I was content.

               “I don’t love you, and I never will,” came the voice of heartbreak as I bid farewell to the man I was and the world I shared with her.