Countdown
There are exactly five days until the day I will last see you. By then I should have already ripped my heart out of my rib cage.. I mean my coffin and offered it to you. But, tell me how can I express myself when there are not enough synonyms of the word love in the dictionary, and when every other word feels like it has been used by one of those girls who try to hunt you down with their bodies. See, I try so hard not to be like them. There is exactly one day until you leave, your room is empty and your luggage is full. I wonder how long the unspoken words will remain buried beneath my flesh. I wait. There is precisely one minute, 59, 58 57 seconds until you leave, the cab is waiting outside. I don’t have enough time left, I watch the seconds disappear into nothing. I still can’t find enough tangible words to describe these vehement feelings. Suppose I had enough time, would have I done anything differently? I would have probably mindlessly continued counting down until the smallest gram of time had remained motionless on the palms of my hands. I think I just now realized that the countdown was fueling my self-deception, and self-deception is the strongest placebo there is. Isn’t it?