The End of My World

The end of my world

and the beginning of me.

Sitting by their head, I gaze into their nearly hollow eyes, whose apple I’d been so long ago. The early morning brings with it a chill, the final call. The dam struggles to contain what it had so desperately trapped, and a single drop manages its escape. I hear the thunderous roaring of a phantasmagoric train as it goes through the station of my existence, not waiting for anyone. I am but a mere pauper on the platform, trying to find meaning in those cabins of images. Trying to find meaning in time, in life. Almost oxymoronic.

Life. Such a precious thing, yet so pervasive, we take it for granted. All those images, a lifetime of joy. Of happiness, of smiles not stolen but shared. We are barely a speck in the scale of the universe. Yet we turn it into our own. We carve our own niches into the walls of its magnanimous forum. We help; we love. We smile; we cry. And we contain the world in us, around us. Our world may not be as big, but it is quite as rich. For it is our own.

They were my world.

I grasped their hand. They remain immotile. Unaffected. Where am I? What alien land did I stumble into? I always had them. Their pillars of support. When everyone else was against me, when no tide would rise my way, they would be there. Always. Ready to tell me to believe in myself, to tell me not to lose hope, not to give up. They would be there in my times of crisis, of despair, always ready to lift me out. But it's not just the hardships we shared. We shared the joys, too, however simple and brief they might have been. Smiling, laughing, enjoying. They would be happy for me, for my success. The only one with me in this hostile world.

Why? Why? I cry out, for none to hear. Why did they have to go?

The first rays of the sun hit their face, and the dam fails.

Would this be it then? My world collapsing, while I sit there and cry? Will I give up now?

I hear a voice, a voice I haven’t heard for a long time. It floats into my head, into my mind. No, I cannot give up. Not now. I cannot lose hope. They would support me, comfort me, right? So that is what I will have to do. Support myself, comfort myself. Lead myself to be stronger. To not give up the fight just yet. For I cannot give up. No, not anymore. Not after they put their full faith in my soul. No, I must live. I must fight. I must carry on. For them. For me. For my world.

I will live.

I will fight.

I will grow.

The wounds are still fresh, and only time can heal them. But my heart is stronger now. It has to be, for it beats for two now.

For you,

and

for me.

My hands move to their open eyes. I slowly bring those curtains to a close.

Exit.