Watching her hurts…
I refused to shed a single tear – knowing that she hated to see how other people suffered- even though (or maybe especially for that reason) she suffered more than anyone I knew or have ever heard of.
If I would cry it wouldn’t bring her back anyway…
Suddenly, my mind paused for a moment… only to continue racing faster then I thought it could.
What if it would have made her suffer worse to continue living like a shell, like an empty corpus, like a shadow of her old self, a ghost of who she has once been, like a dead living?
A living soul and a dead body – or a dead soul and a body still alive… What is worse? What is better?
Being trapped inside a body, being restrained to where you are doomed to be reminded of what could have been and never will be.
My mind screams at me. Calling out to stop right there. I can’t – because that won’t be right. She deserved to have somone to support her, to be a true friend who will support her even if the path of the friendshps seems invincible.
It might hurt to lose all the chances, all what could have been, but it might hurt worse to bear the disappintment when taking chances in vain. To possible suffer more than experiencing happy times…
Letting go hurts, but it could hurt worse to keep.
I’ll let her go if she felt she needed to.
Just in that moment, I a smile crossed my tear felt down to where crimson red threatened my life. Only it wasn’t threatening anymore… Satisfaction found its way to my heart, accompanied by a genuine happiness.
A happiness to have found one purpose: Being a true friend.
The threatening crimson red will vanish as time passes -this friendship on the other side will last. The crimson red held no importance in its meaning. Not to what her and I lived for – what we are and will be living for. The importance is elsewhere. Maybe whithin our hearts, in our living souls.
I bet hers learned to breathe again…
This is part two, so here’s the first part if you are interested: