When the end comes, there is no grand finale.
When the end comes, there is only silence. The sound of my breath.
There is a buzz, a white noise, an acceptance.
A veil of gauze slips over my vision. The world becomes viewable through a filmy residue, a soft white curtain through which I see.
I am an actor, isolated within thousands, as I play my part in this movie. People following auto cue, reading lines, acting their scene. Children laugh. Horns blare. People talk, shop, eat. Everything looks slightly surreal, feels different now.
Friends hug, talk, offer love. I smile, nod, accept – I am constructed of 2 parts. One, my strength, my exterior, that lives, breathes, mechanically moves throughout the day. One, my child within, whom is stuck, unable to step out, on, through or over. She is frozen, just a little longer in limbo, before she is set free.
My head hurts