The Hardest Thing

I wrote this 5 days ago but never got to publish it because I couldn’t bring myself to think about it. But it all came back to me again.

It was a dream I had 6 nights ago, one of sadness and helplessness.

everything was in shades of grey, and black, yet colourless. he was driving and i, i was beside him, silent and suffering. i didn’t understand how i knew what i knew, me the observer, the dreamer, but i knew the me in there was fighting to keep the tears at bay, and fighting to keep from looking at him, from grasping his hand in mine. we were in a truck, a rickkity one, and we were travelling on a narrow strip of road that led to infinity, as far as the eye could see, and beyond. the vast grassland lay around us, thinned and sparsed and flattened by the whistling gales of wind. outside the truck, the rain poured down mercilessly. heavy black clouds, low peals of thunder, the wild frenzied dance of the rain.

there were people sitting behind us, two or three, their cheerful chattering sank beneath the forces of the weather, unintelligible, and they were oblivious to the tension at the front seats. i didn’t understand all these, me the dreamer. and then the door opened she bounced into the truck, popping her head between us from behind, she called him ‘darling’ and innocently put her arms around him with affection, and he shot me a sad pained helpless powerless look which said i may be with her, but i didn’t choose her. she knows that, and you know that and me the dreamer, i finally understood the pain which was torturing the both of us in the dream, and i finally knew the reason.

she chattered a little, then sank into the back to join the others. in the front, we sat almost unmoving, our throats all choked up, our hearts constricted. the tension was thick and oppressive and it seemed that a word, any word, that we say would slice into the air like a blade, cutting into us, fatally bleeding us.

a long pause. with a swift movement, he pulled me a little forcefully towards him, beyond him, and i understood his silent intention. i raised my head to the sky and almost immediately, my face was soaked, my clothes wet. big, heavy droplets rained down, the cold wind blowing them into the truck. when i moved back into my seat, i realised that i couldn’t differentiate between the tears and the water dripping down my face, and for the first time, i looked at him.

his face was, too, wet, the tears mingling with the rain.

we stared at each other wordlessly. helpless, powerless to change anything.

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