It Lingers

His palms left an imprint on my hands, his thoughts a mark inside my mind, and a heart within my heart.

To the lighthouse that I still picture with my eyes closed, when it all gets to be too much, when I’m the ship sailing on a dark sea in pitch black… I still see the light far away from the shore… It calls to me. Maybe it’s a mirage and the sounds that I hear are the songs of sirens… But I’m the distress call. Or maybe I’m the ship on the verge to crash against the coast… Maybe I needed crashing. Maybe I wouldn’t have otherwise made it to the shore.

His words are the only wisdom I ever needed, but they are also faulty; their interpretation leaves too much to the imagination, too much for misconstruing.

He was the friend I needed and the only one I never had. The one who never needed an explanation, but guessed as many wrongs as rights, and left me to ‘figure it all out’.

What I am is happy and not; complete and incomplete at once. I guess I’m like the cat in Schrodinger’s thought experiment; I’m two contradicting states in coexistence.

Role models always seem to have a tragic fate; at some point they fall from the pedestal on which they were placed, or worse, you begin outgrowing them. It’s hard not to resent this loss of innocence. It’s easier to find an actual person, or even just a reason to assign blame.

The missing is a heavy feeling to carry, but hard to shed. It’s as much a comforting blanket as it is a ‘driving-you-mad’ kind of enigma; it likens to phantom limb pain. It escapes logic- aren’t feelings supposed to? It would be so much simpler if the heart could be solved like an equation. I wish my emotions were like math. I wish these were the kind of things that could make sense. Except it won’t. My analyses are methodical, but eventually all fruitless. Apparently, that’s the way real life is.

He’s a ghost. He told me once that’s what he was, what he would be, and now that he is gone, I’m forced to admit I didn’t want to see. The impression of him lingers over my heart, like a cloak. It’s not wisdom in disguise, but more like an inconvenient truth. Maybe it’ll fade away soon- I have this much to look forward to- but in the meantime, maybe this makes me crazy… If so, I readily admit it:

“I’m just a basket case without you”

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