I don’t think I wanted this. Sincerely, I can’t tell whether or not I did. I don’t think anyone ever knows if they willingly chose this. This is the worst thing to ever happen to anyone so I think, if we have any awareness, the sane thing is to avoid this.
I had to wait a while. She kept me in this dark room that I remember very little of. Actually, I remember nothing. They say I was weak. Small. Fragile. The enclosure was the only way to protect me. I couldn’t do much outside of it since it was specially designed for me. The temperature in there was set. Food supply was guaranteed as long as she ate too. I couldn’t eat like everyone else though – another reason for the compartment. I ate through a tube and it had to be semi-solid. That’s the only way food would pass through a tube anyways, isn’t it?
They say I got restless sometimes. Being weak, however, there was very little I could do save for slight movements of my limbs. Whether it was really dark in there or I simply didn’t open my eyes, I don’t remember.
My wait time was nearly over and that’s when she made her promise. She didn’t come in. She couldn’t. Nevertheless, she always talked to me from the outside. Her promise was written. I guess that’s why it took so long for me to get it despite the fact that it was made when I was still in there.
I’m here now, reading it again. The sound of silence is so loud. Louder, even, than the TV downstairs on it’s the highest volume. I wish he knew he could enjoy the TV even when the volume is down.
I never saw her handwriting with my own eyes till I got the letter, yet it looks like I’d been reading it all my life. My fingers trace the paper. Knowing she’s touched it too makes me feel like I can touch her too.
It says I might not love it outside of my compartment but she’d always be there to make sure it’s not all bad.
That was the lie.
She’s never been there. Save for the first time I stepped out of my cell and opened my eyes, I’ve lived without her.
I read the letter again every night with the hopes that I can loathe her for the broken promises. I can’t. She didn’t mean to. She took a journey mandatory for all. She just left early. She left so that I can stay here.
Her broken promise breaks me. However, it breaks me more that she broke her promise because she was trying to keep it. Rather than hate her, I hate myself.