How far do I have to go to get to you?

You can't make these things up.

Last night, I couldn't sleep. For a few reasons. The first is a little more dramatic. I walked into the room and saw her frozen silhouette against the streetlights that poured in from the windows. I asked her what's wrong. She didn't reply, stood up and brushed past me and left the room. I grabbed her by the elbow, shook her. What's wrong? Talk to me. Say something. A vacant sadness in her eyes, rimmed red and watery, wide and scared. Then she heard the noises outside, she noticed the light from the dining room. Sadness turned to fright, a look of panic, of retreat in her expression. A frightened scamper back into the room as if she were hiding from a monster, from her worst nightmare.

I stayed up to make sure she wasn't going to kill herself. My ears pricked as she let herself into the kitchen. I listened to make sure she wasn't drowning herself in milk or drinking poison. I put down my book as I heard her open the windows, listened out for the sound of creaking steel beneath weight, in case she was going to jump out the window and into her dark, concrete death. I couldn't sleep because I was too busy making sure she wasn't going to commit suicide, even though she claims that she's too much of a coward to do so. Let's hope she's not also a liar.

She apologised in the morning. I didn't forgive her. I couldn't bring myself to.

Another reason why I couldn't sleep last night was because of the blooming parachute in my chest. I couldn't concentrate on my book because I kept remembering what he said and the way he said it. Why does he feel so much more special than any one I've ever met before. And why did I let him leave just like that. My heart, it seriously aches. And songs that play over the radio or in shopping malls have me sighing in self-pity. I keep asking God to do His will. I want His will to be him. But till then, I will keep looking up from the pages when thoughts of him come eating into my imagination and I may have longer nights and I most definitely will suffer the weight of love songs that ring so soundly in the atmosphere.

Some things you can't make up.