Circularity

I remember the flowers. They were so pretty, spread out in the fields, so bright and colorful, the way they complimented the sky, sang with the trees, all in sync with the gentle, lilting rhythm of the grass. And then I saw her standing there, staring at me. She wasn’t mad. She was never angry. There was never any resentment. She just seemed sad, ghostly tears falling down her deathly pale skin, thin hair framing her thin face and falling down her thin, frail figure. She smiled at me. I waved back. 

And in another moment, I was awake again, staring at the fake plastic stars she’d stuck on my ceiling all those years ago. I looked at my clock. It’s been years since I’ve slept through the whole night. It’s been longer since I haven’t dreamed of her. I’m tired of it, but I feel selfish saying it. She doesn’t deserve that. The least I could do is let her stay in my head for a little while longer, let her remember that she is remembered. I remember. I could never forget.

Believe me. I’ve tried. 

I saw her this morning, while I was taking a walk. It was raining, the light kind of rain that she loved, warm and humid and dense. She was standing there in a puddle that went up to her ankles. I could imagine her dancing through the water, but she just stood there. And she smiled at me when I saw her, and I smiled back. No resentment. Just sadness, layered beneath the happiness she wanted me to see. I wanted to tell her that it was okay, that she didn’t have to be happy for me, but I knew she wouldn’t listen. She cared about me too much. 

I cried when I got home. I sat at the table, and she was standing next to the chair where she usually sits. She stared at me, her unwavering gaze begging me for an answer to the question of my tears. I shook my head, unable to find any words, my own breath about to suffocate me. Silently I begged her to go away, but she just tilted her head, giving me that curious, quizzical look of hers. I knew she wanted to help, but I didn’t know how to tell her that there was nothing she could do, that there was nothing I could do. I kept crying. Eventually I fell asleep, but she was there again, looking at me through the field of flowers, smiling like nothing was wrong. My heart ached. 

I’ve had a couple days of solace since then. I went out with my friends for a little bit, and she was nowhere in sight. They were all pleasantly surprised to see me smiling again. And it felt good to be happy after so long. It felt good to not think of her for a little bit. 

God, I still feel terrible. 

I was thinking about her earlier today. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. I was cooking, and I suddenly saw her in my head, smiling at me. Maybe I had some subconscious notion that I could get closure from going back, from remembering the happy times with her instead of the ones I wish I could change. I was thinking back to the flowers, the trees, the fields, the sunlight, everything she loved and everything I loved about her. I remembered how we used to sit beneath the trees and look at the sky. I remember how blue the sky was when she was here with me, even when the clouds hid the sun, even when the rain sent me reminder after reminder of how I did everything wrong. 

You can tell me that I’m wrong, but I know I’m not. I know it was my fault. 

I finished cooking and put the food on the table where she used to sit, waiting for her to eat and tell me how much she loved the food and how much she loved me. I waited all night, but the food was still there when the sun rose, without even an apparition beside it to betray that I was waiting for someone real, not just a ghost of my memory. My failing memory.

I was doing better for a while. I started going back to work. My boss told me it was good to have me back. This morning, I went into the bathroom to wash my hands, like I always do when I feel myself getting stressed, and that's when I saw her, standing behind me in the mirror, smiling. She looked like she wanted to speak, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. 

I broke down. My boss came in a few hours later to find me crying. I was sent home for the rest of the week. I was grateful for the time to be alone. But I knew I wouldn’t be alone. I was never alone anymore. She was always there, smiling at me like nothing was wrong. I wish nothing was wrong. 

Why do I keep wishing?

I'm losing my mind. 

Someone told me a change in my diet might help improve my mood, so I bought some more fruit this morning. I was cutting an orange and I dropped it. I went to get it, but it disappeared right off the floor. And when I looked up, she was standing there, holding it out to me. I put my hand out in front of me and she placed the orange into it. I lurched forward to hug her, to hold her, to just remember her touch, and I fell to the floor. There was nothing there. She wasn't there. 

I kept cutting the orange, staring with more hunger at the knife than at the fruit. 

I'm losing my mind. 

I'm losing my mind. 

I'm losing my mind. 

She hasn't gone away since then. Everywhere I turn, everywhere I look, in my house, on the street, in the mirrors, next to that wretched seat at that wretched table, even in my dreams, she's there, she's there, she's there. I wish every day for her to disappear as much as I'm terrified that she actually will one day. 

I need her to disappear. 

But she can't disappear. 

She can't leave me again. 

I'm so confused. 

I'm losing my mind. 

I woke up last night, more terrified than I've ever been before. I don't know why I was so scared. There was just something in my heart screaming at me to get up, get out, to leave before that invisible force in the room got me. But there was nothing there. I knew there was nothing there. I looked up at the stars on the ceiling, imagining her next to me, in my arms. I looked up at the stars and imagined her face in the plastic constellations. I looked up at the stars and made a wish, then turned onto my side and berated myself in the quiet. What was I doing? Plastic can't grant wishes. 

I'm getting tired of this. I don't know whether to be grateful for her presence or sad that I have to relive her memory every day of my life or angry that my head is playing so violently with my thoughts. All I know is that it hurts, everything hurts. My hands hurt. My eyes hurt. My heart hurts. 

But how can I say that? How could I ever be glad to be rid of her memory? How dare I try and put her behind me? 

I don't know what to do anymore. Her face, her memory, it comforts me as much as it haunts me. 

I'm losing my mind. 

I woke up this morning and felt strangely free. There was a lightness in my chest that I couldn't remember ever being there before. 

It was gone by lunch. The second I saw her in the kitchen, the weight was back. It was leaden and thick and unrelenting. She was holding out an orange to me. I wanted to scream, but I didn't have the energy. 

I realized why I'd felt lighter. I didn’t sleep most of the night. I didn’t have the chance to dream. I didn't see her when I slept. 

I took the orange from her, clutched it to my chest, and cried for the rest of the morning. 

I’ve been crying a lot lately. It feels good at first, but eventually I just get tired and fall asleep, and then I’m still tired when I wake up. You’d think that I’d have run out of tears by now, but I keep finding more, somehow. People tell me not to fight it when I cry, to let it all out, but I’ve poured out so much that I’m starting to feel empty again. All I’ve done is cry and sleep and eat the few foods my weak stomach can handle. Oranges. But it’s so hard to eat with her standing at the table, next to her chair. I've offered her food before, but she always just looks at it and then looks back to me, like she's reminding me that she isn't real and can't actually eat. 

I don't know. I don't know. 

I cried myself to sleep again last night. I wished on the plastic stars. I dreamed about seeing her in the fields of flowers. I watched her wave innocently to me. Even in the dream, I cried. 

God, it's just an endless cycle, isn't it? 

I'm losing my mind.