Whispers of the Heart

Hold My Hand

You were always there.

You were behind, beside, upfront, above, below- and not only in the external parts, but also in the internal ones.

It was like...you could channel your love, your undying love through my hands; you could force me to do something just to see you smile, but you would never use force.

In the years I had known you, I never witnessed you using force.

You were always gentle; human minds, unlike angels, were fragile and prone to gradual development. You would never force someone, because it would only bring harm, even a good cause.

But I remember the day when I willed you to handle my like a puppet- to control my emotions, my feelings, my mental state of health. I was spiralling out of control, and I wished you'd use force.

But you never did.

You stood by, watching me struggle and get up, only to fall down once again. You watched me as I hung on the pillar, my ankle wrapped in bandages, and my heart aching right above my chest, and you watched me as despite the agonizing pain, your words were like church bells to my ears.

You never gave up on me.

And you never died.

You never could.

You always had such a good approach with people- they loved you for who you were; I loved you for who you were. I remember the night I was crying alone on the carpet, and you came to me, muttering soothing words in a language that seemed so familiar, yet so foreign.

I remember the look you had given me when I had told you I wasn't good enough.

That look summed up my life's existence in one whole second.

I remember when I'd scratched my ankle, and cried out loudly, while you had whispered that I'd get better.

You always believed that I'd get better.

You never left my hand.

It was always glued- Mom used to joke about how inseparable we were, and I would flush with pleasure.

She adored you too, and loved you as pure, kind woman would.

I hope you can forgive me for breaking your belief.

The loneliness- I just couldn't take it anymore.