Euthanasia

” To John,

We met a little too early in life or perhaps a little too late. The moments, vibes seemed to be on point but the timing just wasn’t. I would walk out the gates and see you waiting for me and in a blink of an eye, you would be out there again waving me good-bye. With every step I took, I knew it was a step closer to the misery inevitable.

The raging silence of the night would creep into my nerves, slowly clawing its way into my body, my brain. The days were tedious, I long for the night to fall. The only time I could talk to you, hear your voice and your phantom touches. I missed you dearly, thought of you every second of the day. It has been years I know but I miss you like it was only yesterday that I fell in love with you.

The day we could finally be together was the second best day of my life. First being the day I met you. Your hair was greying, your eyes still brown and doll-like. You talked about how we would have two kids and send  them to school, how we would dress them up, how we would behave with them. About the house we would stay in, somewhere far from the city but overlooking it. I turned away just for a second to place my book on the counter and there you were, with a ring in your hand asking me to be yours.

Time went on and you did too, I was left behind at that very spot. I was still head over heels in love with you and you had grown out of it. I don’t remember when exactly but it was fading away and I could feel it. The realisation makes me choke on air, suffocates me still.

Overtime, everything else took an importance over me. Perhaps you were too used to having me around. Habitual. I would never leave anyway. You barely saw me. You didn’t see that I had lost weight but my tummy was bulging at places. You didn’t see I was losing hair, the dark circles beneath my eyes. I kept trying to talk to you, over the meals, in bed or while bathing in the sun on weekends.

I tried to talk to you but all you wanted to talk about was how your company is pressurizing you with responsibilities of a job that is not yours, how the numbers are wrong or the co-worker who sneezes ever so often.

You didn’t realise I had stopped going to work, the paper work filed and stacked neatly on the shelf. The prick marks on my arms, the gradual greying of my skin. You didn’t notice how I would get up in the middle of the night with headaches and cry with my head between my knees, didn’t notice the amount of pills I was popping.

My family is no where now and my best friend died. You never noticed how lonely I was, how much I wanted to talk to you. Never noticed how I waited for you to put your work down, the second you did I would hold your hand and ask about your day. You always brushed it off with “it was okay.”

The room was lit with scented candles you so love, I dressed myself in black silken dress with a plunging neckline, a red lip and wore my hair up. I dressed my neck with the lace you bought me for our first anniversary and looked out the window, waiting for you. I turned thirty that day and you had to work late. The next morning you asked me why there was a cake on the counter and wine in the fridge.

I emptied the wardrobe and packed my bags, you were looking for your black tie with geometric prints, you didn’t realise the closet was half empty.

I left that day, for good and it was weeks before you realised my car in the garage missing. Weeks before you knew I was not coming back.

I love the color of these walls, wine red reminds me of the cake you like. I like the floor, polished and brown just like your eyes. You are so beautiful, the way you make me feel is.

Love,

Jane Doe”

Next morning it was that the house keeper found a woman dressed in grey on the floor. A tube into her right and a slash over her left wrist. The blood was soaked up by the dress she wore, the color resulted was magnificent. Alongside it was a bag with paper works and hospital bills and a letter specifically addressed.

An ultrasound scan dropped out of her purse as it was picked up to be bagged.  Left in the room was the body and the image of who could have been.

It was long, it wasn’t worth it.

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