Exodus

You left.

You didn’t tell me.

You didn’t tell anybody.

You just left.

You were oblivious to my tears, because you weren’t there to see them. You were gone. How could you leave me here alone? You told me you loved me! You told me we would spend the rest of our lives together. But you left.

They told me you were dead, but I knew it was a lie. I stood there in the shadows at the affair they called your funeral. Nobody saw me, and I’m glad. They all believed them. They all believed that your body was in that mahogany coffin they were lowering into the six foot hole. But I know it wasn’t. And the hole remained just that – a hole.

I know they wanted us to forget about you. I know they wanted me to stop searching for you. I know. But nobody believes me. Why not?

It doesn’t make sense. They said you were dead. They said you killed yourself. They said they found you in your car. They said you ran in a stream of gas and wound up your window. But I know you didn’t. You always told me you didn’t believe in suicide – you said it was a way out for the weak. You said it was selfish. You said it was pathetic. You said that if you ever killed yourself, you’d make sure it hurt, to punish you enough for committing the act you hate so much.

You are brave like that. You don’t care how much something hurts you, as long as you can protect me. As long as it doesn’t hurt anybody else. But then you contradicted your own nature. You left.

Your departure was agonizing. I lay in bed every night with tears brimming in my eyes, then slowly trailing out… I couldn’t move my hands to wipe them away – I was too dead. I kept thinking you would appear outside my window – I always left it open after you left, so you could climb in and hold me in your arms. You know better than anyone that I have always been too afraid to even open my curtains to let in the sweet daylight, but I left the window open just for you, just so I could see you again.

But you didn’t come.

Why didn’t you come?

Why didn’t you say good-bye to me?

You told me so many times you loved me and nothing in this world could change that. Then why did you leave?

Why?

Was I not good enough?

Was I not beautiful enough? You always told me I was the most beautiful thing you ever had the privilege to lay your eyes on, but then you left me here.

Why didn’t you come for me? I would have run away with you. I would have gone to the edge of the Earth with you – I still would.

It hurts.

Just thinking of you hurts.

My head feels like it’s on the brink of eruption.

You once told me you would never leave my side. Then why did you?

They told me you left a good-bye note. They told me you wrote that your love for me was excruciating. They told me that you said you couldn’t go another day without me. Then you should have stayed with me. They told me that you said you didn’t believe I loved you enough. I love you more than anyone has ever loved anybody else. I’ve loved you since the day we met.

It was at a funeral – a genuine one this time. It was my father’s funeral. You were a distant friend of his nephew, you said. It’s funny how I never knew my cousin, but you did. You came up to me at the wake, where I sat as far away from the crowd as possible. You took my hand and told me you would try to fill the void left by my father. You did. You did so much more! But all that came crashing down when you left.

I don’t believe them. You would never kill yourself. You would never die even. If you were hit by a car, you would crawl your way back into life just to be with me – you would never take your own life. I loved you so much and you knew it. I know you knew it. I could see it in your eyes. Oh, those big grey eyes… They were beautiful… So beautiful they cast me into a dream, when I looked into them for too long, which I could never resist.

They are wrong. They are all wrong. I still see you. I know it isn’t you, but I see you. You walk up to my bed at night and lean down, thinking I’m asleep. I’m not. I open my eyes and I reach for you. As I am about to touch you, you disappear. It happens every time. It drives me insane.

They told me I was crazy. They saw me talking to your apparition once. I know I imagined it. I know it wasn’t you – you aren’t dead. Living people don’t have apparitions. It was the next best thing. I told you I loved you. I asked you why you left me. I asked you why you didn’t take me with you. Then they took me away and I heard them whisper to each other that I was crazy. Then they told me the same.

Perhaps you left for a while. Perhaps you are going to surprise me when you return. I just know you are. You are going to walk up to me and ask “did you miss me?” with that beautiful smile on your face. I would shower you with kisses and you would laugh into my ear.

That gentle laugh of yours is miraculous. I would curl up inside my skin just to hear it again. And I know I will. I know I will hear it again when you get back. I just know.

Until then, I will wait.

I will wait for you.