"The Murder Of One"

I am not sure yet if I'll let her die. Or maybe she already has ceased to exist. You never know. I can't seem to find her anywhere. I look and look. I know the way she was, I know where she would be if she were still here. I know her so well but I don't recall the exact time she began to disappear, the moment she started to leave me. Was it in gradual degrees? A distancing so slight that it isn't even noticed until it is a wide, gaping void where once something bright and lovely existed? Was it in baby steps and silences never addressed? Words never spoken? Thoughts never shared? Was it when the courage failed and the daring stopped? Was it then that she left me? I don't think she would have liked to see me like this. I don't have much courage anymore. Maybe I compromised what I felt, believed, what I was, too many times until it was a compromise no longer and simply all that there was left. Maybe that's what it was, why she couldn't stay. Maybe I let her die already. Maybe I was responsible for something bright and lively receeding and diminishing until it couldn't possibly survive untarnished.

Tonight these are my thoughts on the nature of being human. On discovery and knowledge of self. On the beauty and pain of living.

She left me. She wouldn't recognize me now. But she will come back. She knows where to find me. I'm waiting. I'm actively hoping. Somewhere deep inside myself I know I haven't changed...I'm here still. There's nowhere I can go.