As the flower dies, it blooms

The sound of an alarm clock going off was heard in the morning. An average teenage girl was waking up from a wonderful dream. A dream where her parents and brother accepted her existence. That's why the alarm clock was such an annoying noise for her.

She turned off the alarm clock but kept on listening to the sounds of birds singing their songs while doing so, as well as her own breathing. It was like music to her ears since the alarm never made any sound in the morning. She would wake up every morning to the same routine. Her alarm goes off, she grabs her phone, turns it off, gets dressed up, puts on some make up, grabs the necessities for the day, then goes to school. When she is finished with what she needs to do, she heads back home, gets her homework done, eats dinner, and does whatever else that needs to be done until her next school day.

Today is just another ordinary day that consists of a normal girl getting ready for school and taking care of whatever she needs to take care of before the day really begins, and having fun doing all those things. That is not going to happen today.

It's Tuesday, the day that she wakes up, has breakfast, gets a bus to school, and takes classes. This is what happens everyday in this town. It is what most people call a “good” life, although that could also mean boring and uninteresting life to you.

Something good just needs to happen I think, but it just doesn't work that way. The sunshine bleeds into the bedroom as the sun rises. The day begins like normal as usual. Go to school, the day is the same just like the others. It drones on and on until the day ends. But as time moves on you eventually have to grow up and get a job.

So that's what happens, at least something exciting is going on, something has been added onto the same boring old schedule, but even that too becomes nothing but a chore. Life goes on. People treat you the exact same as they did ten years ago. The girl much like me just feels dead on the inside, expecting, waiting, and waiting some more. Nothing has changed. Occasionally the girl tries new things and they excite her once more until it becomes dull and under stimulating as usual.

Her part-time job became this thing where she found it monochromatic, she was left so lifeless as she dragged through life as if she was stuck at the bottom of a muddy river wading through the thick molasses like mud. Because that was how she felt, like she was drowning, but with extra steps much like me. The girl tried many things which were very different to what people considered normal. Like a rollercoaster or a rollercoaster ride that goes on forever until someone says ‘stop!’ and the ride comes to a screeching halt, ending in an abrupt stop as the person gets off. Well, I’m not saying that she got off at the end of the ride, instead she simply stopped because it was over. Or that the ride hadn't even started yet.

That was her life, and I suppose that is how my life will continue to be as of now, and maybe someday I can find a way to get out, to get rid of this dead weight on my shoulders, but today is another ordinary day, and I’ll just try to stay busy so I won’t feel depressed by this life that I don’t deserve to be alive anymore. My life may seem boring and dull but I can’t escape, even if I tried, the life that I want has already started moving forward, and it doesn’t want anything to do with me. I know that I'm not living up to anyone's expectations, even mine. But this story isn't about me, it's about this gal! This average gal, who thinks so little about herself much like me. This gal, who doesn't fit the image of what society wants, much like myself. This gal who only wants to be happy, but the depressing world just kept crushing her happiness, much like me. But unlike me this girl still manages to have hope, to believe in something more than herself, to live and fight. And that is all I ever wanted, to live like this girl; a life full of joy.

But fate didn't let me be a part of her life, and I can’t blame fate, because the world hates us enough without us causing them more problems by being alive. I hate that I can't change the fate that has already been decided, but no matter what my feelings are towards fate, I must accept what I am given.

The world is cruel enough to let one thing happen. One single thing. And it happened right when the sky opened for her. The rain started pouring down, the thunder boomed louder than ever before, a strong wind blew, almost blowing her hair back as it hit her in the face. As the rain fell harder, she pulled my coat closer around my body. The girl closed her eyes, and for a few seconds I imagined that she was on the roller coaster again. She remembers the feeling of freedom, the exhilaration, the thrill of finally going beyond myself. I too remember that I felt this too, but I didn’t feel that way anymore. I wasn’t on the roller coaster now, I was in an empty room with no one beside me. I was alone, writing this.

Just like every other day, I’d write down these words. My heart ached. It felt like everything was gone. It hurt like hell, my chest, my legs. My soul. But I pushed through it because that’s what I always did, and I had to keep going. If I stopped I knew that I wouldn’t ever be able to get better again, and even though I’ve experienced this type of pain before, this was a lot worse. Much worse than the pain from before. There was nothing I could do except wait for it to pass and hopefully return to normal afterwards.

After a while of sitting there writing and crying, I decided to leave. To give myself some fresh air. But before I left, I looked around the room. It looked so peaceful, the only problem was, I was leaving it all behind. My life was over, and I could no longer experience that kind of peace.

She walked down the stairs and looked out the window. She saw people walking around, laughing. She smiled sadly, wishing that the same could be true for me. But even if it was, it wasn’t my choice. Maybe it was the world’s fault? Maybe the universe didn’t allow me to have that sort of happiness. Or maybe it was all in my head. The girl shook her head and ran out of the house, hoping that she’d catch a bus and leave the city soon so she could return to the quiet life that she lived back then. The place that brought me so much joy that I can’t remember a moment where it wasn’t.

The rain had stopped by the time that the girl arrived at the bus stop, and by the looks of things no one was there either. The bus came around 10 minutes later and she sat in the back with all of her stuff on her lap, and watched the raindrops fall on the windows. It was peaceful, but something told her to hurry up, to get as far away as possible, to be far away from that damn life she left back home. She didn't realise that she'd fallen asleep till the bus reached her stop. She quickly woke up, snatched her belongings from the seat and rushed out of the bus. The rain had stopped, thank god, but it looked like there were some clouds in the sky which meant that it was going to start raining again very shortly. At least it was still early in the morning. She took a small umbrella out of her bag, and headed for her apartment building. She unlocked the door and went upstairs. On her floor, as soon as she entered her place, she dropped her bag on the ground, put her keys in the pocket of her jeans, grabbed a book that she had borrowed from her friend, and headed to bed.

Her dreams are filled with the same old scenes. There she was, standing next to the door as she opened it up to her mom. Her mother’s tired smile as she looks at the books that her daughter had brought her. A look of disappointment as she notices that they're books about things that she doesn't care about. A look of anger as she slams the door closed as hard as she possibly could, causing the girl’s heart to stop beating and leaving her in shock.

And now her memories are of how everything seemed to change the minute that her father got into the hospital after he passed away. Before he passed away, everyday he'd come home and talk about his day. He would tell us stories of his mother, father, siblings and their lives.

They never lasted long, the memory was never exactly clear. But the girl’s brother and sister would sometimes play tricks on him as they laughed hysterically. They’d sit together while he recounted all the things about his childhood and family that he loved. Our mother would cook delicious meals, and we would go to visit her while she cooked them. We would listen, laugh and listen some more, and then go home. He’d tell us funny stories about what happened when he was a kid. Stories that made us laugh as much as him, but they also made him sadder. He would sigh and say that there was someone missing in his life, and that he was looking for her now. Even though he couldn’t see her any longer. He hoped that his daughter had found a nice boy to love and marry, because he thought she was too lonely.

But now even those memories have become blurred, fading away and eventually they became blurry memories of someone she didn’t know. But the most vivid memory of her mother singing a lullaby to us when we slept, the sound of her sweet voice echoing through our room, lulling us to sleep. That's the thing that really hurts when you wake up after that memory. Those moments where we'd pretend that everything was ok, to make each other feel better but we were only hurting ourselves. When our smiles would turn to tears, when those sweet melodies would cease to play. After the dream ends, there’d be silence.

We’d lay there silently staring out of the window and into space. All we could hear would be the soft whispers of the birds outside. But I guess we’d hear them just fine as well. Birds don't speak, do they? They whispered their secrets to us and she’d just listen peacefully.

One night, it happened that my mother was singing a song, a song that we used to sing as kids. I could never remember the words to the song or anything about the story, but it was such a pleasant melody that we sang along until the night ended.

We spent many nights together, lying on the bed talking and listening to the birds outside.

Sometimes, her mother asked questions about life and about her life. About what she thought of things that affected her life. About things that her mother thought her daughter should probably know and things that she thought her daughter should avoid. About the people she’d trust in. They’d talked for hours about everything and nothing. They both laughed a bit every now and then. It was a peaceful evening.

So when she died it broke the girl’s heart.

It hurt so bad when the doctors announced that it was too late. I don't know why, but somehow I just knew. And it sent the girl down into a spiral.

That night she didn't cry nor scream. She stayed awake until dawn as all kinds of images appeared in front of her eyelids. Memories of the times that they spent together flashed through her mind as she remembered her mother. All her mother’s hugs and kisses and loving touches, and yet it didn't feel real. I can't help but feel bad for the girl. Everything was unreal, as if it was all a hallucination. The memories came slowly, but they were there the whole time. Her thoughts drifted back to my childhood and all the memories that followed. All the fun, happy memories and the ones that were filled with sadness and pain. Her mother had always been there for her, no matter what happened in the past. Even if at times she didn't want her to be there.

The sun was rising. The girl couldn't stand the fact that her mother was still gone and it would be another year since she died. Another year spent trying to forget everything about that mournful day that changed every aspect of her life. Another year of just trying to survive. But now without the support of her mother. It is so sad, so very sad. But I can only watch as she goes about her life. But living in her head, there is nothing that I can do. As I am just a manifestation of her thoughts and actions. So let us simply watch behind the fog that conceals us, there is nothing that we can do but to let her life play out as the universe intends. We can only feel what she feels, and we can only hear what she hears.

We can only hope that she finds someone who loves her for her. But we can never touch her. Never hold her hands, embrace her, speak softly to her, offer her kind words, control her. These are the rules.

No matter how much we wish we could, these are the rules. Her life played through her eyes, showing us how not much in her life has changed.

And we couldn't do anything but watch. There isn't a single thing that we can do. If it weren't for these rules, then this part of her life wouldn't exist at all. But here she is, stuck inside this foggy prison she has built herself, unable to move forward and finally free herself, to live happily ever after like her dreams would bring her. This is reality she tried so hard to escape from. And there's no way to escape from it, not from her mind, her feelings or from reality itself.

She cried as the tears streamed down her face, her lips trembling and her vision growing blurry. Her breath turned shaky as she tried to calm down. No. Not here. She can't cry here. In her bedroom, in front of her dead mother's picture. She had no right to do this. The raw emotions lingering from her dream that haunted her in the middle of the night, the tears that stained her cheeks as she fell asleep, the fear that lingered in her mind, the grief and regret.

No one else saw these tears and she wanted everyone to leave her alone. She wanted to be left alone. But she didn't want to cry anymore.

The flowers on her mothers grave will always be sweet-pea flowers. They’re dainty and delicate flowers that her mother grew in the summer, though poisonous the girl admired them so-much-so that she would occasionally want to touch them despite her mother’s warnings. But now they lay on her grave. The girl always takes them from her garden when she visits, careful to wear gloves and pluck them into wrapping paper. We watch her as she visits her mother’s grave placing the flowers so docile in her actions. Though the same couldn't be said with her father’s grave. Though she couldn't say much about their relationship, it was complicated to say the least. He wasn't as tender and sweet to her as much as he was to her brother.

She misremembered some things. Her mother as she remembered her was a kind and gentle woman and her father was a man who loved only his son. But that was wrong; her mother was kind whenever other people were around, but that facade drops once they're gone. She only remembers the good that she experienced, not the bad, we blocked that from her. Much like the sweet-pea flowers, her mother was poisonous behind the gentle and tenderhearted face she hid behind. Her father was kind and cared for his daughters but still only did only love his son, their relationship wasn't complicated at all, that was twisted by her mother. We only blocked those horrible memories so she wouldn't feel so terrible. We were born out of those terrible memories, her imaginary friends you could say. And all in good faith to protect in her humble presence.

To try to comfort the girl, try to keep her from hurting, because there is nothing more painful than seeing someone you care about suffer. It makes the guilt worse, if possible. That feeling of not being able to reach out to them, knowing that they needed your help and yet not being able to do anything hurts us. We mourn with her, behind her, hidden within the shadows.

Sometimes she tries to talk to her parents, to those pictures on her mantle, as if watching a pet trying so desperately to communicate with its owner. She talks about her mother and father and how she misses them so much, although she knows that they've already passed. How they'll continue to haunt her and keep an eternal watch over her. She misses the idea of a family but her siblings stopped contacting each other after their mother died. She craved the warm embrace so much that she wanted no need for a hug from just anyone. How sad. She felt so alone in the world she built for herself. What a lonely soul she must have been! And what would happen if her brother, her sister and the girl herself finally her mother joined her in death? She knew what would happen but hoped and prayed that it might never come true. Yet, as if fate itself was mocking her wishes.

She wanted to die, to live in eternal slumber to just not feel pain anymore. And it was at this moment. This moment in time, was when her body felt so weightless and as if all the anguish disappeared.

For a brief moment she forgot her worries and fears, just for a brief moment. For in the blink of an eye everything vanished, and there was nothing but pure tranquility within her mind and heart. She feared that this was just temporary, but she was wrong.

As she stood up, she walked over to her balcony door, sliding it open as she stepped out. Feeling the cool autumn breeze she braced herself against the railing, her mind cleared deeper as she took a deep breath of the chilled air.

She gazed out over her city and thought about where her mind had taken her. She hadn't moved from her spot since.. And then she looked down, over the balcony looking at the concrete ground that meters below her feet. She closed her eyes and took one last look across her city. Pulling herself over the railing she teetered over the edge she looked down once more before letting go. Nothing on her mind but peace and at that exact moment, I could only gaze at her floating figure. At that moment she looked as beautiful as she possibly could.

Like the flower that blooms only once before it dies.

When she collided with the concrete ground, we embraced her as we died along with her. Nothing was more beautiful than this.