The Half That Remains Empty

Dear twin sister,


I keep scrolling through the memories of our youth as if they would last forever. I keep delving into ephemeral passions of the mind, a haven of worn-out thoughts. I sought you through every crevice of the past, foolishly caught in the lie that if I decided to dive deeper, I could bring your life back into the world.


Even so…


My thoughts often evade those memories filled with transient joys we both shared. It was not enough to simply accept your death; I had to purge the trauma from my mind. Can you feel it? The weight? Believe me; you are not a burden. I falter in how I have dealt with the pain brewing a storm within the vacant spaces of my spirit. Silence.


I am tired of living half of an existence.


Remember when we used to speak our own, peculiar language? Remember how our family used to think we were crazy? Remember how- ah, what is the point of it all? These remembrances only conjure unwanted tears.


I am happy; yet, I am sorrowful. I mourn for the loss of vitality in my voice, the fractured tinge of humanity that I fake throughout the day. I mourn for your passing. How many years has it been? Eight? “Let it pass,” I continuously tell myself.


It was never that simple.


I could speak about my tormenting muse over the insanity of death or how much I have suffered through acceptance. However, I bore with cliche words and meaningless self-rambles. No- I am here for a different purpose. I want to tell you how the suffering has shaped me, even when I have concluded that my resilience has departed. I have learned that acceptance is not forgetting or avoiding. Rather, I believe it is adaptation.


I have adapted to your death. Whether that is a good thing or not is for you to decide; though, I have yet to understand what that truly means, too. Maybe, by giving in, I have entered a new reality. A new reality I must be molded by in order to survive this world and all of its contingencies. You see, life is nothing but contingencies and our responses to them. You know of this concept all too well. After all (and I say this with much despair), you did not ask to die at such a young age.


These are my long-drawn, overdue words to you, my twin sister. Yes, the memories of our beautiful childhood is fading. I can feel it. I am losing touch with you, I am afraid to admit. The feeling is like a sound I just can’t recall from whence it came from.


It’s hard to live without you by my side. We had made so many promises to each other and all of them were helplessly broken in one instant. Now, I am left with the reminders of your once fulfilling existence.


With you here, it would have made a difference. It would have prevented me from losing my mind a couple of days ago, or even persuaded me to abandon my perfectionism “curse” that taints me, so. Perhaps, it would have remedied my silence. But, I can’t covet things that will never come to be, for my desires are locked in the past’s time (so, why do I cry over the unchangeable past?). I have to keep moving on because that is what I have been doing for so long. That is what I expect from myself.


That is the very thing you would have wanted.


So be it.


With the most love,

Your other half


© 2017 Sapientiam All Rights Reserved

This poem is about: 
My family
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