silence
My body is crouching on the sofa, my gaze fixed on the television. But the eyes see nothing, do not notice that the screen remains black. It's an excuse to be busy with something else. An excuse not only for others, but also for yourself.
Moods can change quickly. Fifteen minutes ago, my face smiled into my mother's eyes which had worn something of their old sparkle again. Now everything is at the beginning. A new start, like every time he stepped through the door.
Five months is a long time. My mind remembers days gone by when hours seemed like ages to me. But the five months since he left us, no my mother, passed in seconds. Seemed much quicker than the fifteen minutes he was there.
My breath slowly calms down, my eyes stay fixed on the point that doesn't exist.
One day the hearing had been imposed that if he came to get the mail, he would come and tear open the wounds that had just started to heal. Unintentional, doesn't it seem? This time, however, the knife was blunt and was digging around in the wound, it will take longer to close.
But maybe it's my body? Maybe it's too slow? Not robust enough? Is it the ghost preventing grass from growing over the scar?
Don't wanna think, can't think Just wait for it to stop bleeding. It works with others too. It will work here too, it has to work.
The echoes of her words halls in the oppressive silence again. Roar in my aching head, burn themselves into my memory, erase other things. Can't allow it, but the strength is lacking.
The spirit says it's your own fault. You could have stopped the aggression, relieved the pressure, but you remained silent for too long, hid in shock.
The room spins even though the eyes are staring at the television. For the past five months the eyes haven't dared look at him, my father. Today they were forced. From my mind? My fear? Not to make it worse for my will?
They didn't see much, the glasses were smeared with salty, shed tears.
The voice was loud, that was new, my voice was actually quiet. My mind didn't hold me back, my voice screamed that couldn't be spoken. It wasn't nice, but honest. At least it seems that way. Was he worried? Its possible? It was probably a pathetic sight. But now it is too late.
We made a mistake, even more wasted it. How will it go on? Can something be saved? Or are the broken pieces already too old?
I don't care, so don't care. Just sleep ... Stop thinking, stop staring into the silence. No longer be.