to love or to lose

A letter, to you --

Welcome to the world of my dreams, where terrible things happen whether or not I want them to.

It hurts with every heartbeat, but I’m still just trying to figure out if everything that happened was real or just a dream. Bright fluorescent lights blind my eyes but I still see you clearly, your unconscious body laid out across the metal hospital bed beside me. Your pale arm is extended from your seemingly lifeless body, and I’m holding your hand so tight but your skin is so cold that all I can do is pray that you’ll wake up and be okay. I shudder every time I look at the IV protruding from your arm and think about how close you were to dying, and I just can’t let myself believe that’s what you actually wanted.

I felt like throwing up when I walked into that empty dark room and as soon as I flicked the lights on I had to be the one that found you drenched in your own blood. I didn’t trust myself to do anything but scream for help; help for you, because I wanted you to be alive so much, and help for me, because I knew if they told me you wouldn’t make it my heart would stop beating. I screamed, because I couldn’t bear the thought that I might actually lose you and you didn’t even know how much you meant to me. I screamed, because I was afraid that this was real and I would forever remember this terrifying moment as it came back to haunt me in every dream. I screamed at Death as She hovered over your head and I saw the look of victory in Her eye because She thought She’d won, but I chased her away with whatever strength I had left and I told Her that She could never ever have you as long as I was here, and then I collapsed beside you because my voice and my hopes had run out.

I woke up in the same hospital room as you so I guess they found us; you, ready to embrace Death, and me, desperately holding onto your life because I just couldn’t let you go. Recovering consciousness did nothing to bring me back because I still couldn’t feel anything at this point. The hours I spent sitting by your bed, holding your hand, wishing you’d just wake up and everything would be fine, blankly staring at the white-washed wall across from me. Nothing mattered more in those million minutes than you, and I wished you could know that it was both of our lives on the line and not just yours.

The scent of metal and blood finally got to my head and I felt myself slipping away again, but this time all the screaming was in my head because no sound came out of my mouth when I opened it to cry for someone to watch over you. Darkness enveloped my mind and I spent an eternity pleading for your pardon, petitioning for another day, praying for your life. I broke down half a thousand times and I shouted at Death over and again, Stay away from him. Take my life but just let him live. Everything felt hazy and She disappeared for a moment, only to lead me down the path of my own life regrets that had made me hate myself more, but I knew that I couldn’t because I had to be here to pull you back from the depths of darkness. All those distressing doubts and dismaying dreams replayed reminded me of those nights where only the music kept me alive as I wondered if I would ever escape this mindless agony. Everything I’d shoved to the back of my heart She forced to resurface so I would drown in it another time as if I hadn’t already felt enough pain. My head stayed above water only long enough to repeat your name in a whisper so I wouldn’t forget why I’d chosen to live through everything you’d never know about.

Waking up for the second time, to see you still unconscious, made me cry. Warm tears were drawn from my eyes and slid down my tired face and landed on your arm, and my whole world blurred. Your arm, slightly hanging off the side of the metal bed frame, partially bandaged after they found you, to stop the bleeding from where you’d cut yourself and hoped to die. I knew they’d stitched up the skin but I wished you were awake so I could kiss your scars and let you know that I still thought you were beautiful anyway. Tears grew cold in the corners of my eyes so I wiped them away and knew I wanted more than anything to be your best friend, but I didn’t think you’d ever let me because of all my mistakes.

I’d fought back Death before and I wish I’d known what caused you to trip over the line to try and take your life. If your blood was made of words, I wish I could have read all the ones that drove you insane as they spilled out of your skin because I know the words that would be found in mine, and I wondered if there was something I could have done to stop this before it ever happened. I wondered if it scared you to face Death alone, or how many times you’d chosen to be brave enough to keep on living before you gave in to Her irresistible offer tonight. And I wondered if the thought of me had ever kept you alive one of those times, or if I was just another reason to make you hate yourself.

Trembling from shock and the inevitably cold hospital room temperature, I started crying again, haunted by hurt and hate from my past as I pondered whether we exist to love or to lose. My eyes closed and I wished to dream of you and then wake to find you fully alive. Sleep surrounded my head and my heart and all consciousness left me again, I thought of nothing.

How vivid the nature of these events made it hard to believe that when I woke up it was all a dream. The words tumbled out of my mouth all in a jumble, It was only a dream, because I wasn’t sure if I could believe it. It was all my imagination run wild into the darkness over the night, triggered by that picture of you I saw yesterday, and the song that serenaded me to sleep. Dazed and disturbed, I can’t begin to think about how strange it will be to see you next week after having a dream like that, and you never knew. Welcome to the world of my dreams, ironic that I seek sleep to find peace but only find hauntingly painful dreams that I never wish to come true.

I promise I’ll be here if you ever need a friend.

Sincerely,

--
Scribbles


P.S. If you feel troubled or terrified after reading this, then you know something of how I felt after I dreamed it. I write to release the memories from my mind.