I have encountered it, thus I fall emotionless since, and most of the Grace I feel for the world has sunk in the quicksand of time.
Life is but a dream, is it?
It was seven years ago, or eight, since that event hit me. The sky, polluted by the lights, is not as dark and pure as it should have been, however, is mixed with yellow, pink, white, and other luminosities, composing a palette of chaos.
Sitting on the bed, I heard, coming from the entrance, there was a click. A small, and simple click, though impactful, as well as adjudicating, in a way, my former convictions, and one of the major components in my life.
Two went, and one returned in sorrow.
It was then declared.
I felt nothing at first, but total frigidity. And seconds after, it was the memories, those golden, pure fragments of the past that hit me, penetrated me, then flew freely across the room. The earliest ages are gone, and will never be recreated or repaired, but left to rot with the corpse. It was too soon, but that's the gruesome reality, I realized.
Then I started wailing, with tears emptying my eyes, and my sound shattering in mourn. The lungs sunk, the heart sunk, and the body no longer belongs to myself, but a suffocating miserable life deep in the ocean, with no one to lean on and nothing to use to rescue themselves. I could not breathe, but I must cry, as only vacancy is left to be done If I stop.
I fell asleep, and I am finally awake from this long dream.
There is no farewell, as I have always feared might be the last one, the one that sealed my fate.
Reflection
This sparked my Necrophiliac nature, and reasons why I am always smiling.
To remind myself of the perished, who I have used up all my emotions, and what is left, unused, untouched in that event, is only happiness, with traces of anger left.