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Sometimes I lay down.
In the human realm, the grass was not that different from what we had back home. I would even take my gloves off to truly be able to sense it, there was something about feeling it through my fingers. It was soft, and always colder than expected. Whenever I rested my head on it, I would look up to the sky. It had an interesting color, which was weirdly satisfying. Then, I would close my eyes and do literally nothing. Just hear the sound of the gentle breeze, which besides repelling my negative thoughts away when blowing into my face, also played with the grass.
It was nice when my friends were around, also laying down with me. We would share our visions of the clouds, and even picture funny scenarios. Other times, we would just stay there, in silence, appreciating the peaceful place that was the human realm. It always felt right, even if the reality of having those people in my life still sounded.. kind of terrifying. I was sure they loved me, and I loved them.
But when I was by myself, there was something strange hanging in the air. A weird sensation I could never get rid of. Like I wasn’t really alone. Like there was someone else laying down with me.
Sometimes I wonder.
Being away from that old room changed something in me. Things have slowly gotten better since I started living in a house that wasn’t mine. There was a different roof, a different mattress, a different smell. It was like a refresh. I was slowly recovering from the realization. Taking all the time I needed before really deciding what to do next. The first step to a completely unknown path. It was scary, but it happened. Somehow.
Getting along with other people also helped a little. Maybe a lot. All the support they gave me played a big part in all that process. I always found myself amazed at the fact that they did not know me at all, yet they were trying really hard to make me feel better. They didn’t have a clue about the things I went through, or what I was. How could they treat me like it didn’t matter? Like they didn’t need to know about them?
At first, I couldn’t understand, but after a while, I managed to get it. And, from that moment on, I stopped closing myself off to them. I started smiling a lot more. That was when I noticed. I finally felt home.
Sometimes I can’t sleep.
Staring at the black pitch would always have me shivering. Like someone was staring back at me, waiting for the perfect moment to come out. Then I would turn on the light, just to make sure that I was safe. I never saw anything other than my friends sleeping peacefully in their own sleeping bags. It was hard to convince myself that there was nothing to fear. But what were people if they didn’t have anything to be scared of?
I would sigh deeply, going back to the darkness.
Sometimes I feel great.
My friends would call me, trying to convince me to go back home, but I refused. There was something about the human rain that dragged me into it. I loved it in every single way. The little drops of water felt great on my face, it made me smile. Then I would just run, jumping into the puddles while almost tripping and falling on the ground. I never cared about the possibility of getting myself hurt or diseased, because I was having the time of my life.
Flapjack would always join me, we would play together. I would forget about all of my problems, like nothing ever happened. And it was nice, because it was just me and the rain. Just me and the clouds.
Sometimes I cry.
My friends would run into me and ask if everything was alright. If I needed a moment, or maybe to talk it out with them. I would smile. I was just so grateful for everything that’s happened these past few weeks, so grateful to be around people that truly cared about me. So grateful to finally be at peace with myself. I would laugh.
Then I would hold their hands, and we would walk together down the streets, cheering our friendship. I would wipe the tears away, acknowledging that I was fine. I was okay. I finally was. And it felt wonderful.
Sometimes I talk to him.
There was a statue of him in Luz’s town. Alright, actually, a statue of him and the other person who he made me after. It was quite a shock to find it. I remember traveling to a really far place, only to go back to reality when someone called me. At the time, I didn’t know exactly what to say, it was just too much. I was getting over that specific person, and then they just ‘showed up’ again. To make me remember the days I was trying really hard to forget. I felt dizzy just looking at it. I decided to go back home.
That was the first time I saw it. Most of the time, I would find myself sitting right next to the statue, talking to it like it was really him. It wouldn’t scare me anymore. I would tell him everything about what had been happening lately, the adventures I had every day, even though I knew he wasn’t listening. Other times I would ask questions about silly things, never actually getting an answer. That was alright. I didn’t feel like I even needed one. In fact, I only needed to let those questions out of me.
Sometimes I wish.
What if things were different from the start? Would I ever end up as happy as I felt these days? Maybe not, maybe yes. I ask myself if something would change if we ever tried to talk about all of that calmly. Perhaps find a way of solving things, perhaps understand what was going on in his mind. I’ll never know. I was too scared of even facing him, there was no way we could discuss that subject.
They told me I didn’t need to worry. He was gone, and no matter what happened, he was never going back to hurt me. I was kind of relieved about that, but at the same time.. sad. If we took all of this situation another way, he could be still alive, and then we could.. I could help him. We could start from scratch. But now, it was useless to even think of that possibility. There were other things to worry about. And they were more important.
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Sometimes I hear whispers.
They mutter my name. They tell me scary things. They tell me nice things.
They make my hands tremble, they make my legs weak.
They confuse me. They mess me up. They terrify me. They drive me crazy.
They remember me of somebody I used to know before. They remember me of someone I wouldn’t mind to be hearing every day. They remember me of somebody I once loved.
And they don’t go away. They don’t ever stop whispering.
But it’s not like I want them to stop. It’s not like I ever got over them.
So I let them be.