My reading table is next to the window, sitting in a chair with a few dry biscuits. I was breaking the biscuits by hand. At the same time, I was wiping my tears. Then the cold wind was blowing outside, and the tears were drying up in that cold air. I put the plate of biscuits under the table and went out and sat down. I was confused, thinking about what I was going to do and what was going to happen.
I was wondering; it's been more than 20 hours; why am I still not healing? At least it was supposed to be healed; I was expecting to be healed. But it was peaceful, far from over-expecting, sharing tears. So now my grief is mine alone. But I indeed miss her every second of the day; I have no one with whom I can open my heart and share my grief, or say that I miss her so much, who will give me a little comfort and say that everything will be fine. There is no one I can tell about her that she was excellent; she cared so much for me that nothing to hate her about. Yes, that's what loneliness is.
If I had someone by my side, I would share everything with him, how angry I am at her, how disappointed I am with her reaction; all my efforts have turned ashes. I would share everything, but I would sit by the door in front of the room and lookout. The salty tears have dried, and the eyes have turned black. I was desperate to hug someone; I couldn't cry out loud because everyone was around, but no one could understand my grief because I wasn't letting anyone understand. I couldn't close my eyes; whenever I went to close it, it took me to the land of nightmares, that's why I couldn't sleep. I was thinking of taking a sleeping pill, but I was expecting her to call me; I might fail to receive her call if I fell into a deep sleep.
I had nightmares sitting around during the day; it was horrible. When I looked at the clock on the wall, it was as if time had stopped. The clock ticking is standing in one place; it is not moving. Suddenly my mother called for a bath, but I felt cold. And an hour later, I realized I had a fever. At that time, I took medicine to reduce the severity of a fever instead of sleeping pills. Because I realized that it was more important for me to be healed than overwhelmed with grief. I need to be recovered from everything. I can't sleep all day after taking sleeping pills; I have a thousand more things to do, I have to do them. I have to go far where I can't compromise with grief.
