I am having trouble differentiating between reality, and what I want to be reality.
How do you draw the line between what’s real, and what you want to be real?
When you miss someone so bad, the pain is literally like you have been ripped in half. Your mind is tormented, and your heart is shattered. Irrevocable damage. In the midst of all of this pain—your sleeping mind seems to take your pain into your dreams.
Which leads me to question, are dreams real? When you speak to me in my dreams, it feels so real, so vivid—maybe it is real.
Is what is standing in front of your eyes real? If you are open to believing things beyond this world, if you cling to hope so badly that you’re not alone, maybe you will just find a new truth. Truth that you are never alone. That those you love never leave you.
I am not talking about fear, the “things that go bump in the night.” I mean the sense that you know you’re not alone. That someone is with you. Someone that wasn’t always in an invisible form.
The phantom sounds that you cannot decipher the origin. The whispers undulating down from room to room. Is this real? Or, do I just want it to be real…is it you?
Do I just miss you so badly that I am tricking myself into believing things that couldn’t be real?
When you first left. I felt nothing.
Now I feel haunted. Life doesn’t just end when you take your last breath. There is something beyond. Heaven. Hell. Down to earth for another life.
Or, maybe—just maybe, sticking around to make sure those you love are okay. Maybe, you weren’t ready to leave just yet…maybe you never did leave.
It’s not just me. My cat howls at odd hours of the night by your photograph. Is it you? Does my cat see what I cannot? She sees it, I only feel it.
Are you still lingering? Or, do I just miss you so damn badly I want to believe you’re not really gone?
Worse yet, is none of this real? Is my mind playing tricks because of this tumour in my brain?
I feel something. I know there is something. There is more to what meets the eye. More to what we are taught to believe is reality. I don’t doubt that.
The months after you left something changed. Whatever is here is benign. It brings comfort. No fear. Is it you?
Watching over me in death just as you did in life.
Are you still lingering?