long time no see. long time no do… long time anxiety… long time freezing or hyperfocusing… long time in waves of extremes that I so despise.

long time much love though… and it saves us all.

__________

i miss C. I don’t think my brain will ever truly believe C is no longer here. Hasn’t been here… for about.. 24 years now…

i remember him clearly. So clearly I know that I haven’t processed what was a “disappearance” in my young self timeline of life.

and I never forget. I never did. I did not cry. I was in shock, I started trembling inside but didn’t want anyone to know what I was feeling so I continued reading - more so pretending I was reading. I hear it all. What happened. How. When. Even why… and I could not accept that there wouldn’t be any consequences. The sound of the Mother crying and wailing will haunt me forever. The heartbreaking last memory still makes me nauseous for being so ridiculously unfair, I get irrationally angry (as I feel now), it starts to make me doubt if I even want to be around here, alive. If these kinds of things happen, why am I subjecting myself to witnessing all of this? Why?

i buried my head in those pages. It was late at night. I wanted to go hug the Mother.. he was more than family to me. I focused on anatomy illustrations. I imagined a dead body. His dead body. Anything. An autopsy, his body with the Y incision, ribcage showing, doctors removing organs to weigh them. A refrigerated unit with all those drawers filled with lifeless meat and bones. I did everything I could to absorb and understand reality to the point I visualised horrendous things, bloody, broken, disfigured things.

it didn’t work… I felt wrong. In my mind, it hadn’t happened so a sense of guilt came over “Why the hell are you imagining such things?! Stop it! You’re gonna make it come true and you’ll regret it!”.

the next day I felt weightless. Autopilot set in. I will never forget walking up some stairs - I had a written exam. I stopped and some people complained but I only heard some echoes. I stood still while I watched blurs of other humans going up and down the stairs in flocks. My only concern was “Am I real?”. No one’s chest could possibly feel that way, right?

so I continued pretending. And by that next afternoon, I had convinced myself it was all a bad dream. No one had talked about it, no one had said anything, no one was crying - all was good. Oh, sweet relief!

i wished for it so bad it came true! Everything was fine…

i went home and proceeded to have dinner… no mention of anything. A weird silence but that was all. They talked about many other things. “YES!! I knew it!!”. I started to feel better and happy. The world was becoming normal again.

then it came crashing… “so… hummm… what is next?” - a scared voice asked. “I know… I still can’t believe it myself…”

believe what? What is it that you’re talking about? Why are you all taking deep breaths and sighs?!

“she came over last night…” and her voice started to break as the fork held by my hand started to shake “she knew by their faces, all the nurses and doctors” - knew what?! - “it’s awful there’s no words for it… C was such an angel… we’re trying to help with the funeral arrangements”. I dropped my fork. I cleared my throat as I fell something inside me, something very very heavy, fall from my head to my stomach.

i put my dishes and cutlery away “Excuse me, I’m finished.” and walked back to where I was reading the book. I stood silent. I had no idea what praying was (I still don’t) and had no contact with religion, it wasn’t something I had around me. Yet, I closed my eyes tight and thought “If there’s anything or anyone in any way shape or form that has some kind of superpower I have a deal for you: make time rewind and I will never ever stop believing in whatever you are”.

time didn’t rewind. They wanted to protect me, they didn’t take me to the funeral. Looking back, it was the worst thing they could’ve done. In my mind, I had say “see you next week!” and that was it. Nothing else happened. C was gone. Just… gone. Away in a new city, probably starting over.

i imagined it all. A new life, a girlfriend, where C would be living.

and time went on… and on. And on… as it always goes.

10 years later, I am watching a movie with someone else by my side. Time did go on. I didn’t have it in my mind.
nothing important happened in the movie. It did happen in me - to this day, I don’t know what.

i was overwhelmed by pain in my chest, I was nauseous, I started to wobble my head and my eyes were shaking from one side to the other, very quickly, making me dizzy and making me see the world as if an earthquake just hit. Tears came out jumping - there were no drops, it was like a mini river had finally rushed out.

i picked up the phone. I dialled the person that helped C’s Mother that night and throughout. She picked up “Hello?” - “Hey it’s me - please please please tell me it’s not true” while I was out of breath in a gasp that seemed to last for minutes - “What is not true?! What’s happening!? What’s wrong?!” - “Where the fuck is C?!?! Where is he?! Why haven’t I seen him in so long?!” I yelled. I heard crying on the other side “honey… keep calm… breathe… C died… you know that!”.

right then and there I wanted to die. I fell to the ground and screamed, screamed and screamed some more. I was wet from my nose, my tears, my sweat, everything.

“you’re lying! Please tell me the truth - WHERE is he?!” - “… Listen.. I’m so so sorry (crying) but you know C is dead… it’s been a long time!!…” - “I don’t accept that… please tell me it’s not true…” - “Unfortunately it is…” and I got weak and couldn’t hold the phone anymore. We cried together. She cried out of worry for me. I cried because I understood what my brain blocked for 10 full years.

I remember asking, in a last plea “does that mean I’m never ever going to speak to C again? See him? Speak to him? Find him in the street? Nothing?!” - “… Yes… it’s true, you won’t ever… ” - “Ok…”. And the screams turned into exhaustion, I could only feel the floor watery against my hot face.

“Ok… well, I guess it is what it is…” - “I can’t hear you like this, I’m calling for help!” - “Please don’t… I get it… I just want to know if I could try to find C in another country or something like that. I don’t know! I don’t fucking know!” - “It’s been such a long time… we have to deal with this… you’re not OK!” - “I’m fine… I’m fine… please… let me rest… and promise me you told me the truth” - “Yes, I told you the truth, I’m sorry… I know how important he was to you” - “Stop it. No one knows. No one will ever know. No one will ever meet a soul that is as pure and kind. No one knows. And the world doesn’t know. And the world should know because the most angelic figure and probably the only one ever was lost… so don’t… please” - “Can you call L to be with you so you’re not alone in there?” - “OK… He’s watching me from the other room…”.

i said goodbye and L came in. He hugged me as I left my body on the floor go into a fetal position and my cries were now… “normal”.

a lot happened between me and his Mother. She is a fantastic human being. When I was lucky to stay alive and woke up in the ICU, she was the one trying to wake me up from that state of not-really-existing. I heard her voice. Sounded familiar. I hear echoes only. I opened my eyes slowly. I couldn’t see - blurry stuff.

but I heard her voice. And I remembered her humour. Dry. Sarcastic. With a disdain for the whole entire world. An anger that is only visible to anyone that knows her. Jokes left and right about the stupidity of humanity. She woke me up from that whole thing years later… and she made me smile. She told the doctors.

I called her one day, thanking her for waking me up and helping me. She laughed. She cracked many jokes. About C. About stories in C’s life. Funny things she loved about C. And she told them with love. SO MUCH LOVE!

and hate… and anger. The same ones I feel when I know justice wasn’t a thing… and that there is someone who should pay dearly for what happened.

i think of her often.

i had never dreamed of C before…

last night I did.

that he was an adult, that we meet in a street in a foreign country. That he had a family and wife. That he grew up to be a wonderful, caring and funny adult. And I invited him for dinner. And he accepted, reluctantly as his financial condition was always a bit dire - so I said it’s on me which made him start refusing - I had to insist. And we talked and laughed, laughed a lot. I loved to make him laugh. He was there when I was born, from day 1. And then suddenly he wasn’t. But last night he said hi.

It’s been… 24 years. I am still to meet anyone, any child or adult, who were as kind, honest, downright sweet and pure as C was.

i am still shocked. I don’t think that will ever change. I still can’t quite believe it. Though I’ve visited the grave over and over to try to convince myself. There is a lovely statue. Many toys over it. Many new toys every time. The Mother goes there often and plays with the toys so he’s not lonely.

i played with the toys, as I sat and looked at his picture set in an oval frame on the marble stone.

and I took a deep breathe and I got out of there. Still imagining C is somewhere nice and warm, living the best life anyone could live. Happy and fulfilled.

and after last night’s dream… I now hope that everyone was wrong. That it was all a rouse to hurt me - I don’t even care if that’s the case. He’s somewhere out there.

walking in a street. Seeing beautiful things.

x

(i wrote this with fury and tears, I have no idea if the text makes sense, I don’t edit, I don’t delete, I do nothing with what has appeared on the screen. Hope it gets the message across. In this case, I’d like more people to be with me and hope that what happened wasn’t real. Maybe if more people wish it along with me it becomes true)