It's been almost a year since I last saw your face. Almost one year since I last heard that beautiful voice apart from my dreams. A year since I last felt a glimmer of hope for my life. The intervening eleven lunar cycles have seemingly in mockery come and gone unaffected while my mind and heart have cycled in continuous circles of pain and depression.
I thought, if I were to completely change my surroundings and take a new job, I could fool people into thinking I was normal or even happy. I also thought I was succeeding in that. Comically, within days of knowing me, people have begun to detect an overflowing, unmissable, stench of sadness. Pure sadness, as I've come to learn, is something which can not be hidden or disguised. Not for very long, that is. People tend to pick up on it.
I try to avoid arbitrary sentimentalities, but as the anniversary of the worst day of my life approaches, I am finding it increasingly more difficult to extract a sense of worth out of my life.
If you only knew how little and insignificant a thing had to be to trigger in me an overwhelming wave of sadness, I think you might even laugh. So I'll close my eyes and hear it. Painfully beautiful.
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