I regret ever saying that.
I regret even thinking it.
Because now…
I don’t have any more tomorrows.
All I have is yesterday.
Because yesterday I was among the living.
Today, I walk among the dead.
Standing at the edge of my shallow grave, I stare down at my body in its twisted, mangled form. When I can’t look at it anymore, I spin in a circle as numerous questions flit through the walls of my mind.
Why am I still here?
Why am I still here?
Shouldn’t there be a light?
Shouldn’t I be walking, skipping, or sprinting toward some heavenly beam?
No….
I’m an angel who can’t soar her way into heaven because her wings have been clipped.
Tilting my head back, I stare up into the sky. It is deep, dark, and black, an abyss of nothing that seems never ending. My eyes bounce from the moon to the stars. I observe the moon and how its glow is dulled down by a layer of clouds and how the stars don’t seem to be shining as bright as they normally do. I watch a sea of mist as it moves across the heavens and hides all the best parts of it.
It looks gloomy.
And depressing.
And secretive.
And wrong.
I guess it fits the situation.
There have been times where I wondered if the stars could talk just what kind of stories they would tell me. There have also been times where I wanted to ask them questions like; why do you hide away sometimes? In my opinion, the most beautiful things always shine, shimmer, and glisten on even the darkest of nights.
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear Adam grunt beside me. My head snaps to the side and I narrow my eyes, glaring at him. He twists his upper body to the side as he chucks another mound of dirt onto my rotting corpse. Asshole. For a second I wonder if he can hear or see me so I say, “Asshole,” again with grit and a booming tone to my voice.
But he doesn’t hear me.
Of course.
If he couldn’t even hear me when I was living.
There were moments during my relationship with him where I thought something about him was off. He’d stare into blank space, lost in a daze more times than I could count and I would literally have to shove him to get his attention. Or even times when I’d look him in the eyes and see no soul what-so-ever behind them. I’d ask him, “Adam, what’s wrong, love?” At that second, it’s like a switch would snap somewhere inside of him and he was back to his normal, charming self.
But I should have known better.
I should have been smarter.
Wiser.
I should have taken off my love-goggles so that I wouldn’t have been so blind.