It’s sick, it’s been sick for a very long time. As I sit here by its bedside,I hear it taking its last breaths.
I am waiting.
I only recently found out it was sick, but I was told it had been sick for a very long time. I had never seen the signs. How could I have known? It had always been that way, ever since I first met it, it had been sick. It was never well. No one told me.
I am waiting.
It sometimes goes into a coma and my heart stops beating, stops hoping. Is it really gone?Can this be? But it always comes back, regains consciousness; I keep on hoping.
I am waiting.
I’ve known it ever since I was child. It welcomed me into this world. At first, I didn’t know anything. It took me by the hand and promised to teach me and show me how things are. It taught me everything I know. A couple of times I asked it, are you sure of what you are telling me? And it would answer:”how can you doubt me? I’ve been with you from the beginning. I’m the only thing you truly know. Remember when you were a child and you put your hand on the stove and burned your fingers? I am the one who told you to not do that again. If it weren’t for me, you would have burned your fingers over and over again.How can you doubt me?”
How can I not?
I am waiting.
I’ve tried so hard to understand. At night, when all hope was gone, I would ask it. Why? Why are things the way they are? What have I done wrong? Although usually so talkative,it would never answer back. It would sit there silently with a grin, as I begged for some light, for some understanding, for some truth. When I was done asking and hoping, it would start talking to me again, of trivial things, of things I didn’t care about. Why are you here then, if you aren’t going to help me?
I am waiting.
For a long time, it was stronger than me. I took its advice many times. Many times it was wrong. That’s when I really started to doubt. Maybe it’s not here to help me, maybe I shouldn’t listen to it, maybe it has no clue what it’s talking about. I would stare at it, deep in its eyes, since they say the eyes are the windows of the soul. But I saw no soul behind those eyes.Come to think of it, I saw no eyes really. I saw nothing. It was not there. Then, where was it?
I am waiting.
In search of the voice that has guided me all these years. In search of what I thought was me. Nothing. All I found was nothingness. Then why, out of nothingness, I hear this voice? This voice that knows nothing, yet cannot stop talking, advising?It’s dying, and this is my only hope, that its death will signify my living. I hold its hand, it is afraid. It does not want to go, but it must. I am tired of it, and it is tired of not knowing, of always trying and continually failing. We could have been friends, if only it had stopped talking, advising, judging. But it never did, so this is its destiny. Maye it die a beautiful death, for it never had a beautiful life.
I am no longer waiting. I walk out. Outside, there is a path. The sun is setting at the end of the path. I slowly start walking.
I am no longer waiting.
