Love’s Dream By D.I. Jolly
I watched the person I love most in the world grip hands with a dream and drop out of reality towards the pavement.
I think it broke me. Sure, I tried to remain strong on the outside, but deep down, I was broken.
Night after night I search for the meaning of this action, for some hint that could help me understand why it had happened, and why I’d had to witness it.
I began to drift into a lake of melancholy, its flat crystalline surface reflecting the vastness of the night sky above it. Darkness and stars surrounded me and I found comfort in being lost.
It became clear that what I was searching for could not be found, and so my morbid curiosity could never be slated.
My days were spent running algorithms and solving complex coded messages, and at night I would fill the void inside of myself with liquor and with smoke.
I knew that this path would eventually come to an abrupt end, but it didn’t appear to bother me.
I was never able to rid myself of the image of a lake full of stars, myself in a small boat in the middle. The oppressively free nature of truth holding me in place as I looked up and down seeing the same images everywhere I turned.
On June 19th I decided to take my own life, and to my shock, I discovered that I had neither the will nor the power to accomplish the task.
In open rebellion against myself I would go days without bathing, or changing my clothes.
If I could not remove myself from the physical world, I would remove myself from the social, so called, civilised one.
I was taken in by the people left behind, those who are so often stepped over or avoided by the type of person I used to be.
I distracted myself with their stories of life and drew lines in my mind connecting their history with my own.
I partook in their misfortunes, and was accepted.
To this day when I close my eyes, I still see the lake full of stars and the image of love’s dream lying on the pavement.