clairvoyentvale

…and here I am, in this vast field again, no one else in sight.

Only the open sky and endless wheat before me.

I ask again to the universe, “can you hear me?” whisper quiet, like good girls always are. Because that’s how I was raised.

Even when I insist I’m not her, she haunts me again.

“I may be dead, but I can be with you every waking moment, and isn’t that the same as being alive?”

Because the dead never really leave us. They hide in shadows, forgotten places.

Until one day, we catch a glimpse and it all comes rushing back.

Everything.

The lights, the sound, the feeling, the taste.

And here you are again in front of me, just like you never left.

Because you never did.

You never will.

And I want you to give it up.

Admit that you’re playing games with me.

That we can stop this.

That it’s over now.

I never have to relive this again.

But it’s not true, is it?

I will relive this and you for eternity.

Or until I can rectify this unknown feeling in me.

But if I don’t know it, how can I?

And if I no longer know you, or me, how can I acknowledge either of us?

Are we even that different, you and I?

Should I say I’m sorry? But haven’t I apologized enough?

Maybe not to myself – honestly maybe never to myself.

Because I’m not worthy.

But what makes someone worthy?

I don’t know the answer.