Ｔｈｅ ｎｅｘｔ ｍｏｒｎｉｎｇ

It's a letter from my future to my past.

The morning after I killed myself, I woke up.
I took my breakfast to bed.
I put salt and pepper in my fried eggs and made a ham and cheese sandwich in the toaster.
I squeezed oranges into a glass of juice.
I washed the dishes and hung up the towels.

The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love.
Not the girl who lives on my street.
Not from the most popular guy in my school.
I fell in love with my mother.
And the way he sat every day in my bed and took every stone in my collection.
Until they became dark from the mixture of the sweat of their hands and the tears that fell from their eyes.
I fell in love with my father.
That I was on the bank of the river, with a bottle containing my final note, and that I throw into the current.
I fell in love with my brother.
Who once believed in unicorns, but now he sits at his desperate desk, trying to believe that I still exist.

The morning after I killed myself, I went for a walk with my dog.
I'd watch him wag his tail when a bird flew by.
Or when I'd scare some cat away.
I could see the emptiness in his eyes when he caught a branch and turned to receive my congratulations.
But her eyes only reflected the sky in my place.
I watched some strangers passing by caress her ears.
And they got a little kiss from him.
Just like he did with me.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbor's yard.
The one where I left my footprints as I passed over the fresh cement.
I picked some flowers.
Observe the lady through the window, while I was reading the news in the paper that I had died.
Watch your husband smoking in the kitchen while preparing his medications.

The morning after I killed myself, I watch the sun rise.
Every lightning bolt that opened up like a pair of hands.
And the boy sitting in the street showing the clouds to his mother.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to that body in the morgue and tried to tell her something meaningful.
I told him about the tasty breakfast and the stones I saw on the road.
I told him about the river and his parents.
I told him about his brother and his dog.
I told him about the beautiful sunsets.

The morning after I killed myself.
I tried to relive.
But I couldn't finish what I started anymore.


🌴 You can use it to decorate your profile dude. 🌴

[𝕱𝖊𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘]

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