My Butterfly

I always wondered how long I have my eyes open before coming into a realization that I am awake. That I am not dreaming anymore. Days, sometimes weeks, pass and I was not aware. I never get used to it. I stared at my empty notebook after I read the last page I saw I wrote on. It had been 3 weeks if the calendar was right. I don't recall the events of what I wrote but it was in my handwriting.

I saw him again today. We spoke and he told me things we did before. I am so happy.

I should have written something more specific. But I guess I was overrun by my emotions then. I was glad I was still able to write something. I am awake today too. I wondered if I will see him. But his face was not something I often recognize. He comes and goes in my head. His voice too. And I hope I will, someday.

I walked out of my room. I have come to terms that I live in a facility now. All those notes I wrote and read before werle borderline mental. No wonder I ended up here.

I. AM. CRAZY.

I recognized no one out of all the people I saw. I knew I knew them at one point and I knew those young faces knew me too. After all, they smiled and greeted me. They knew my name.

But was it always been that name? I tried remembering. It was something else. It was definitely something different.

I wandered around. I was looking for him. For my brain to recall his face. His name. Anything about him. But I was tired. My chest hurt and my breathing shallow. Am I going to back sleep? But I want to see him again at least. I begged at the back of my unstable mind.

Then out of the darkness that engulfed me, I felt a hand on my head. It was smoothing down my hair. And I smiled. I sighed in relief.

It was comforting. It was soothing. I was no longer afraid.

I know this feeling. I know... its him.

I opened my eyes. I was lying down again. But the hand did not stop from patting my head. He is here.

His warmth going through my body. I smiled to myself again. He was looking somewhere else. But it was alright. I knew it was him.

I studied his features; how the light bounced off his pale skin, how his lashes swing as he blinks, the way the shadows somehow highlight his cheekbones, and then how light his hair had become.

I don't remember what color his hair was. But it was lighter now. Almost off-white.

"My love..." I whispered. I do not want to break the peace I felt but I want to hear him.

He looked down on me and smiled.

"Hi," his voice echoed in my head, trying to recall, to remember.

"Why are you here..?" I didn't know why I asked that. I knew I want to see him.

"Because of you." His voice was deeper. It had a softer register before. But again, I don't fully remember.

He reached out to put something down and placed both his hands on mine.

"How are you?" he asked. I could smell him. Freshly cut grass after a shower rain. I was waiting for a stronger scent after that. There was nothing though.

"I am fine now." I managed to say. "You...came." I reached out and lightly ran my thumb on his cheek. It was smooth to the touch and warm. I knew he was not a dream.

"Yes. I'm here..." he spoke tenderly as he held my hand down and patted my hair again. He held me and I felt him kiss my forehead as I finally closed my eyes. I smiled and sighed happily. At last, we are together now.

The young nurse sobbed silently still holding her hands. Beside him, her notebook lies open to the last page:

I can't wait to see him again. By then, maybe I could join him. 

I miss you so much, my butterfly.