The Antlers - Epilogue

I was dying. The hospital was supposed to be decorated with some cool toned colours. Theoretically those colours would make you feel clean and safe, but no, when you were lying in the hospital bed, all you can think of was your swelling wrist from repetition of iv needles, lymph that flowing under your dry skin, and your treacherous organs. All the white Daisies and Peonies you had got from the friends and family were rotten. It was like I was looking at this white and blue surrounding through a yellow ochre filter.

There was a nurse that’s responsible for taking care all of my shit, metaphorically and literally. I pitied him. He should not have this much compassion for me. I could not take it. This was an infinite loop of pity. Even when a bouquet of white Daisies turned frail and khaki could make him miserable, like he didn’t know that all carbon based lifeforms were all going to die.

Woodkid - Conquest Of Spaces

If I only had knew life after death was to become part of weird energy, breathe in gravity for lunch, soar up in space, I would have let myself die long time ago. People thought space was beautiful, they didn’t know shit. ‘Beauty’ could not describe that feeling when you were the one who’s pulling those glowing masses together. Imagined it, yes you had to; you ain’t me, billion glowing balls with infinite colours and textures, some were just poor dull stones, some were fast, they were all yours. They were your organs, your lymph, your veins. They were not that miserable yellow things anymore. The source of the brightest light was not only the sun when you had the universe inside of you.

Of Monsters and Men - Hunger

I know it was not my fault that she had died. Everybody died, especially most of the patients in my ward. But this girl, after she was gone, her consciousness stuck in my dreams. I felt her aspiration. It was like outer space but the colour inverted into bright lavender. Every night I could not wait to fall asleep. I presumed that her afterlife somehow was connected to me because I had been pouring too much of my soul into her when she was dying.

It was getting eerie when the time went by. I felt her power growing stronger everyday it did frighten me even in daytime. I felt her when I walk. I felt her when I lied on the fresh cut grass in the park, the leaves of grass were touching my back, I felt like I was living in a supermassive black hole inside a plum. It was not that pitch black dark, but in this black hole I could see the closest thing to the Northern light but in violet aura overlaying on my reality.

It was not the visual that did scare me, it was her conscious that connected to me. I felt her regimental gravity of the universe. It scared me the dying girl I used to care for so much becomes this thing.

Paris Is Burning - St. Vincent

The last time I went back to my house, I was sitting on the dull old rose  linen sofa. The texture was softened from age, I lost count how long I had been back to this house. This house was like the evidence of my old soul, the one before she had haunted. I could never be the same. I would never  have seen Daisies and Peonies the same way I did, after I had witnessed the worst of myself. There was no turning back.

She flooded my soul, turned me into her minion. But I didn’t do what she did to me. I wasn’t showering everyone with black treacle but I burnt everyone alive from the crude oil I pumped out from my blood. Everyone I had ever loved, father, brother, or neighbour, they were all my victims. Their souls were like walking torches, roaming everywhere and spreading like wildfire. This was an epidemic of torching humans. It could not be stopped.

I wasn’t sorry.

Daughter - Run

I didn’t know what happened to this city. The apartment I used to live in had a bare concrete façade. It always made me feel like having one my closest friend turning his back to me all the time. But there had been an epidemic of depression. It’s like the heart of the citizen in this city was turning into ashes. I could feel the dust blowing passed my face from the autumn wind. The grey façade became my last asylum. How lucky I am, the last person in this town that still had some flare left in his soul is the guy next door. He felt that too. 

He said to me “One more week in this town I might commit a suicide.” 

So I just asked him to move out of this town and be my flatmate. 

“Let’s go to the suburb. I know some place that doesn’t has grey wall and dust.”

Two days later, we packed our bags, and before I got to know his sister’s name, we lived together in the white smoke colour near the market with a big lemon tree in front of it.