Wordless sorrow
From the top to the bottomI sat down next to him.
Everyone else had already told him what they needed to say. Mark had cried for the longest time - he just kept apologizing next to his bed as he held his hand in his. It was a sight I would never forget. Next up was Bambam and JB. I had to look away when Bambam sat on the edge of the bed and slowly reached for Jackson's hand. I hadn't looked at his face yet. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to. I desperately wanted to remember him the way I did now - with a bubbly smile and a little spark in his eyes. I desperately wanted to see his fingers wrap themselves around mine. I wanted to feel his gaze on my face. I wanted to secretly listen to him sing in the shower, and see his blushed face when he'd notice I could hear him. I wanted him to call my name.
And knowing I had lost those things forever...
I couldn't bear it.
"Miranda..." Bambam had laid his hand on my back. I stared at the hospital floor. It looked dusty, even though I knew it couldn't be. In these kinds of places they took good care of the hygiene. It had to be the pattern. It looked like dust.
"Say something."
Say something. Those two words woke up a certain memory in my head. I remembered our talk at the party, where everything had taken a sudden turn. I remembered saying that exact same thing to Jackson. And I remembered what he had said.
"Something", I said as I took my first look at Jackson.
His eyes were closed and his face was relaxed. He looked peaceful, laying there. He looked the same as he did every time he had fallen asleep next to me, and it seemed absurd to think he would never wake up.
"Hey..." I croaked and gently caressed his face. He was warm. Thank god he was warm.
"-hey..."
I felt like that was all I could say. Nothing I said would bring him back. There was nothing to say anymore. My lungs wanted air but I couldn't breath.
I couldn't breath in a world without him.
"-I... to be honest I don't know what to say..."
He was so still. Even his eyelids stayed perfectly still, unlike when he was actually sleeping. In his sleep, he would blink rapidly, and even open his eyes every now and then. His lips would move slightly, in order to produce silent words and sentences. Oh how I wanted him to twitch, to do something - move just a little - to indicate that he was indeed sleeping.
I held his hand. There was really nothing I could or should say to him. He couldn't hear me anymore. We couldn't have a conversation anymore. He would not feel anything anymore.
I didn't want to feel.
I'm so sorry...
I wish it could be me instead of you.
I wish you didn't have to go. I really do...
I don't even want to live right now, so I really wish it was me.
I love you.
And that was all I had in me. That and so, so many tears. I had tears for every hour of the day. I had tears for every day of the week. I had tears for every week of the month. I had tears for every month of the year and even more.
Life after Jackson consisted of tears and restless sleep during the day and restless staying up during the night. It consisted of starvation and lack of interest towards everything regular people did on every-day-basis. I was constantly longing for a feeling that I would never reach. I was longing for a sight I would never see again. My life was both exhausting and numbing.
I dropped out of school and took on writing. That was the only thing I had the slightest interest of doing. I wrote about Jackson. That was one way I could cherish him and remember him the way he was. I wrote about how he always found a silverlining in things, and how he would explain some things so effortlessly. I wrote down things he used to say and do, funny things and annoying things. I wrote down the exact color of his eyes and hair. I wrote down what his skin felt like. I wrote down his scent. All the little details I could remember, I put them on paper and filed them in a place I would find them when I needed him.
To be honest I needed him all the time.
My mom and dad got divorced shortly after I dropped out of school. Mom and I moved to Incheon, to a tiny apartment, from where I moved to an even smaller dorm with a dude cal
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