The Persistence of Loss

"We always want just a little longer," I whispered. His deep brown eyes, the whites around them still dyed a dark pink from tears, flickered over the spot where I stood lamely with my hands in my pockets. He couldn't see me anymore. I knew that. But there was that stupid lingering hope forever hanging in the air. I knew he still expected me to walk through the door, cock my head to the side, and ask why the hell he was being such a crybaby. I knew he still loved me more than anything. I knew that what I'd done was a mistake, the biggest regret to be scribbled onto the list.

But I wasn't even sure what I was anymore. The only upside to this being I happened to currently exist as, was that the voice had been shredded, along with most of my temporal lobe, before the tiny bullet came to a halt in my brain stem. It was quiet now. The worst part was, the music I'd once cherished had gone also. I now depended on the steady breathing, the air rustling like silk in and out of his lungs, to be my music. The sound of his breath and strong, steady heartbeat is all I'd need now. If I'm allowed to say I really need anything. I stepped closer, my ghost tears clouding my ghost]/i] vision, and reached a ghost hand toward the warm life that still stood blearily in the center of our room, again clinging fiercely to the thinning string of hope that maybe, just maybe I could touch his face one last time.

But it was the same as always, the stinging in my ghost chest rendered almost unnoticeable; My hand passed through with no sensory response, myself losing sight of my pale fingers for a moment before they came though the other side of skin I could no longer touch no matter how many times I tried. I watched Brian walk unsteadily to the bay window, staring into the sunset without a word, a thought, a movement. I followed close to him, aware of the fact that my steps were soundless and nonexistent; his made thumps on the hardwood floor. He took a deep breath, fogging a spot on the window for a fraction of a second before he whispered, almost inaudibly, to the glass.

"I miss you." I watched yet another tear fall from his eyes; Had I the ability, I'd wipe it away, taking the pain and uncertainty of the future with it. This wasn't fair. Why I'd thought that Ending It All would be a good idea for everyone else, I'd never fully figure out. How I'd believed he stopped loving me was an impossible lie I'd chosen to ignore, the guilt weighing on my frame like tonne bricks of marble. I took a shaky breath, despite the fact that I no longer had any reason to breathe, that I had no muscles to perform the function with, and responded, even though I knew he would never be able to hear me.

"Forget me, Brian, please." He continued to stare out the window with unfocused eyes, I thought for a moment, wondering what god would choose to be so cruel as to make me stay here and witness the torture I brought about with my own hand. I stepped even closer to him, missing the unique and calming scent of his skin, barely half an inch kept my face from his. All I could feel was the soft heat that radiated from his perfect body, torturing my restless soul more with each passing second. I played with the sapphire ring I still wore, turning it slowly one way, then the other.

Anything with we enjoy, we never want to see it terminate, end, die. Anything remotely comfortable becomes what we think is an absolute requirement to be satisfied, even a little bit happy. This is just basic human nature, we all live with these selfish instincts, to wrap yourself tightly around whatever it is you crave. But when the situation comes to an end, either shockingly soon or almost too long of a dedication in time, it hurts on different levels, causes us to realize how much we take for granted, all the goddamn time.

You never want the person you care about most to leave you, whether it is in death or something less drastic. It could be possible that maybe the person fears their character is not strong enough to overcome the loss.

But the magic behind it is, they can. They will move on eventually, but there's a good chance they'll never truly forget.