Shadow World (The Best of Ai)

Elite Tears (P)

Today, everything looks dead.

The houses, the streets, the stray dogs, the giggling groups of teenagers, the middle aged men hurrying around with briefcases, the pigeons on the roof, the trolley buses speeding down the road, the mother with her three young children…everything. Everything is dead.

The buildings and the street are a crumbling wasteland and the people are like wisps of smoke drifting through space and time, their minds unknowing and blissfully ignorant of their reality. A tiny ember lights up briefly in each one as he or she is born and then flicks off as they die. Everyone dies in the end.

Smoke seems to drift away from smoldering ruins, motion is a mere memory preserved in time. Life here means absolutely nothing.

A breeze could blow it all away.

The curtain has been ripped apart; and I see everything. I don’t belong here. I shouldn’t be here, seeing all this. And yet I am. I am here. My senses want to deny what they are seeing, but my mind does not allow it.

Yet, I am not sure if this is reality or not. I don’t think it is. Reality shouldn’t look like this.

I realize the scene is familiar. I am sitting on this bench, where my love kissed me for the first time.

The bench feels real and solid enough-but is it? It looks like vapor. 

Even the ground feels real. But is it?

If it were, why does it look so fragile, like glass or like it could evaporate at any moment, like smoke?

I can see a chasm opening beneath my feet….I can feel the hopelessness and despair down there; it’s pulling me down. I would love nothing more than to sink down and embrace it, so that my sobs will rack my body and mind, casting everything else into oblivion.

Oblivion. What a wonderful word.

Why am I here? Why am I here in this shadow world? Perhaps I came to find something. Perhaps I came to find…someone. But why bother? He's long, long gone. He can’t be here. 

A small evil voice whispers hoarsely out of nowhere, “He’s not coming back, doll. Give it up.”

“What?” I snap at it, my own voice hard and cold, which surprises me. “I promised to wait. He promised to come. He’s coming back. And I’m waiting for him.”

“Right here, doll? Really? On this bench till he comes back, back in...how many years, sweet doll? Two? Three? Six? Can you endure so long?”

For some reason I want to say yes. I want to stay here forever in the shadow world, frozen in time, till he returns to me. Even though I am so lonely and sad here, I know it’s nothing compared to what it’s like from…where I came from. Reality. I'm sure now that this is not real. 

Maybe if I stayed here, I won’t feel the pain so much after a while.

Maybe if I stayed here, I won’t become more damaged than I already am.

Life can’t touch me here.

What would he want me to do? I wonder. But I know.

He would want me to grow and expand, to mature, grow in my understanding of life. My love would want me to laugh and cry, dance and sing, work hard and gain experience; becoming more beautiful and intelligent by the day, become someone who is able to love him unconditionally like he loves me. He would want me to live.