She rested her jaw in her left palm revealing her blink as the only sign that she is alive. Breathing became slower and slower as if her body is finally taking its only leave it has. Deep down in her heart she might wished to stop everything and endure the pain but she felt a sudden heat at the center of her palm and it was crawling all over her body. Her blinking suddenly stopped by allowing black eyes to see the world forever and her last breath came as a quiet warm breeze touching her wrist most lovingly.
Even though she had led a quiet life, her mind was always reciting conversations and songs. Somewhere in that life journey she had lost her ability to create sentences through her voice. She always thought that there are somany people out there like her. But that doesn't count, right? Her pain was only for her to suffer.
How are you so quiet?
How come you be so quiet?
Are you always like this?
You are like this in your home too?
First they enquired, then stated by replacing the question marks with periods:
She's always like this.
She's lying about her chirping and fun in her home.
She loves loneliness.
She loves to be alone.
But little they knew that she loved both laugh and smile. By the time they come to know her courage she would be long gone. Sadly that was her plan all along.
That's why she opened the table drawer that day. That's why she took a dull dust painted book and a pencil. She didn't care to find a black pen even though black was all she thought at that very moment. She was used to scribbling and carving in paper but still she conjured courage to move the pencil along the paper with a slow pace and steadiness. The pencil marks become letters and then drawings, each of them linked to the other. Then some letters stretched their arms out to lock the fingers next to them. She watched with numbness the formation of words and sentences outside her mind. Her lips tried so hard to tilt a little to make something resembling a smile.
Her face become as blank as it ever been. Her mind ripped her thoughts out of its net and spreaded it outside. An invisible scattered letters, numbers, symbols, words, emotions, sentences, ideas and who knows what else?
They were probably looking at the point where the pencil nib met the paper. Maybe they were the ones who helped the pencil markings to hold hands. Anyway that had worked. She put down the paper and slide the chair to the desk to be closer to it.
At the very moment the light left her eyes without taking time to say goodbye, I opened my eyes looking into the wooden roof protecting me from cold air and sparkling beauty of stars. I used to know that girl a very long time ago and maybe she is still living in a dark corner of my mind. But acknowledging not only her pain and weakness but her strength and calmness gave me somany reasons to dream by spreading my hard wings. And it still is my lever to wish, to dream, to imagine and to achieve that lost girls dream.