Falling In Love With You

Her blue eyes shines on me and I can't help but tuck her hair behind her ear despite knowing it would be useless of me to do so. She giggles alongside with the crashing of the waves and she pushes her feet in the sand and I can't help but imitate her.

I would not believe you if you told me three years ago that I would be on these very sandy grounds with an angel dancing with me. I look at her and desperately try to grasp her fingers but they slip away like sand, the very sand I couldn't compare her to for while those golden grains stood still against storms in patterns of strength and resilience, I couldn't say the same for her.

In April 2016, she wrote me a letter; how she rambled on and on about how brave I was. It sounded like lies to cover up the treacherous acts her heart was the most compulsive towards. I expected no less from her. Yet, even I knew the existence of limits.

They tried to get into contact with her but in vain; she went off the radar and my uncle called me from his home asking whether she even boarded her plane. I knew that I watched her leave, terrible as it made me feel, I was safe to say I watched her leave me when she promised me she would never do such thing. Tragedy comes in silent crashing waves just how Death took her last breath away.

Dana was never meant to end beautifully or so she said, she would go in a bang and no one would see it coming. Growing up with her was the constant feeling of meeting an old friend. As her father passed away, she was barely fourteen. Soon enough, her story moved a few miles away; her mother along with D and her two sisters started residing in Brighton, London. I thought I'd never see her again.

Nonetheless, obstinate as she was, not once did she stop fighting against the way time was leading us apart. While she wrote me letters and sent me postcards, she felt that it was not enough until later that year itself, her mother travelled back to our native country in December. All I could say from that was it was, without a doubt, the best birthday I have ever had and the month that all started to go downhill for her.

Her mother announced her engagement to a man she met during her late husband's final months of fighting against the tumor in his head. Dana fled from home at the mere age of fifteen but not before swearing to her mother that the latter would regret the day she even thought of her before her beloved father. Who could have anticipated that the victim would turn out to be Daniella?

D. wouldn't agree going back to staying with the mother she couldn't bear seeing the face of. While I envied her freedom back in that time, it still pisses me off thinking of how easy her mother let her go instead of fighting for her. It was the first trigger. My family thought she was troubled due her dad's passing yet, it was losing her mother that cost her more pain. My uncle, Joe, took her in with him while he stayed abroad for his studies. Astonishingly, Dana's mother even volunteered to leave her at the latter's brother's yet, unconvinced of the motherly concern, disgust won her daughter's feelings towards her.

Loneliness drives people to do things that they don't necessarily think about the consequences; I like to accuse Dana's losing faith in her family, mainly her mother, when she needed it most and peculiarly so, from an outsider's point of view, D's mother who lost her husband she loved since she was in high-school. I knew lonely better than any friend I ever made and any enemy I ever chastised. 

For a couple of years, as I grew, I drifted away from the traditional norms for which my family was acclaimed for; the pride of belonging to their clan never made me feel any jovial as it used to before. The illusions placed in front of my eyes acting like a mirage; covering the cracks on the walls that held this family together, soon crumbled down to nothing and I was left to deal with the forsaken truth. No kid of this family grew to be functional. Conflicting thoughts, chaotic mess, a daily existential crisis was just like having tea at our domain. It was no different for Dana, who while grew away from the native home, was still going about her days believing in unworthy feelings while dusting off bitter words of foes and friends alike with a pride that was unmatched for; just the way our clan taught us. 

In the summer of March 2013, Dana took two flights in search of what she called 'revenge' or in my very own conclusion, madness. She came first meddling in the business of her mother's inheritance of her father's properties. While her return was equivalent to an upcoming killer storm, my family decided to take things off of the road and ignore her lashing outs while at the same time, never mentioned of her arriving home to me. It was during school hours that I found out about her and even then, she decided to contact me in a peculiar manner. Even if I grew up playing the Beast to her Beauty, between the both of us, she was the bigger, meaner evil. In her brilliant mind, she was the hero of the story and it did not change; not until the very last music played.

And so by borrowing the identity of an alter-ego I created of myself, she played a little game with my friends to the edge of scaring them to the abyss. Divulging in all sorts of jokes of how she was so close to me, she even attacked my then boyfriend, calling him vile and unworthy; what I did not know during that time was Dana was talented in judging people correctly for which I paid in due time. The play done, the curtains closed; I met her on a fine evening during a lovely family gathering. I never thought of her as more than a friend but that very summer, she changed the way I saw the world.

Dana was a monster like no other. She was perfect in my eyes and I grew up to hate that word but for her, absolutely anything was reachable. The year 2013 started with me, as compared to the wilderness of 2012, a little more tame than I liked it. Dana did not recognize me at first conversation. The very words she uttered, "who in the hell even are you?" How would I have known that while she brushed off my existence as petty and ignoble, she had to deal with demons of her own? I was thoroughly kept in the dark about the havocs she was wreaking within the family clan. All so perfectly, she took me off to the highest of highs and caringly so, led me away when her fight was hers and not to touch my small little world. In a few months' time, she managed to revive in me that strong sense of self without adhering to my virtues of kindness, gratitude or even less, to my faith in God. Then she left, without one word to justify her absent goodbye.

In her absence, I clung to the memories she resurrected and those she created until I clung to her. Why she did not wish to speak to me? The answer I only received the moment she decided so. See, Dana was a lot of things but if there was one thing that she was most judged for by me was her act of cowardice in front of confronting me. It was only with a calm mind that I realized her loving me was just as much her strength as it was her weakness. It's ineffable; how she lashed out, to the way she brushed off her silky black hair showing to you how whatever you would dare say would not in the least bit affect her, her piercing blue eyes looking so ghastly pale in the morning sunrise it still plagues my mind till now, but mostly when she told me she loved me without saying the words. I love her, without any hesitation, and I knew that since the morning of Christmas when she would bake me cookies. I love her, even more than I thought possible, and I understood that during her nightly session of braiding my hair and though she was terrible at it and would tangle my hair, it brought a smile to her face.

She came back a year later with apologies that not once included her saying sorry and chocolate in one hand with her luggage in the trunk of the taxi she had taken. This time, she unfolded to me of her devious plan of making things right with her mother, who by the time Dana came was already in vacation with her foreign husband. Dana lies like she eats; taking time in relishing the delicious art on her plate, and she did not treat me any different. It's easy to say now that that very year played a changing role in the way the both of us were going to be in the years to come. Dana, strange to her boastful persona, lived a lot in hiding from perky curious eyes; I did not know of her history with her mother's forbidden lover, less even of her temporary stay in her mother's home before she left to go to Joe's, or even how abusive that household was towards her to the point she broke without the chance of feeling any hope of out-maneuvering the unworthiness crippling her flesh, eating her bones. It took her my incessant blabbering of how it was unfair of keeping me on the sidewalk, to the tears that escaped my eyes treacherously until she couldn't keep it in and blew it all off my face. Daniella told me about her knowing of her mother's affair to meeting the man in person till he molested her and while I graveled upon how guilty it made me feel that I wasn't there; I failed to see the storm brewing beneath her pale blue and though, I held her, she was so far gone in her hatred of herself that I did not see the second trigger.

That very year, I ended beautifully; diagnosed with schizophrenia and harvested in anger management issues.

In 2015, Dana held me so tight I thought I was safe from myself. Cold May came to me with betrayal and act of utter disgust as those who claimed to stand by me stood against me instead. While dealing with my father's lies about a son he hid for a year, I embraced my brother for the very first time on his first birthday. From then on, my dad became my plague; the illusion completely lifted, I saw him for what he truly was. Yet, on the other side of the globe, Dana, led away from deviant thoughts of her own, dropped out of school and planned her road trip without the consult of uncle Joe. Then, even miles apart, she saw through to love me. Her voice raspy, she would stay up at late hours to speak to me before I went away to school. I'd tell her all about the dreadful things I had to encounter the minute I came home; the only person I never felt guilty of disturbing(and believe me, she napped a lot). December that year was exactly like the December of 2008, alias the December that would never be bested until she gave me the best month of my life again. 

A month of quiet resonating warmth bubbling underneath the stars with the marshmallow bed; a bed that we slept on during sleepovers when we were little and was so fluffy, we never wanted to stop jumping. She woke me on the third day of the last month of 2015 with Edith Piaf and we went to bed singing the House Of the Rising Sun. All to say, the last music she played. She took me by the hand in the mid December and told me about the road trip she had with a friend of hers whose name started with S and I told her about the first girl I kissed and how she broke my heart under the rain. The third trigger came in my presence.

On the eve of my birthday, I confessed to her of how it was a terrible year and for the first time in my existence, I dreaded being a year older. Slowly she shook her head and called me out on my bullshit, that was the day she made me taste for the first time my most favorite food in the world. That soft cheesy comfort of the elbow pasta topped with chives and chopped mushrooms sang to me the love of a hug Dana gave to me and for all I care, she was terrible with braids but her cooking reminded me of what home was meant to be to my soul. She received a call while we ate at the dining table with the Looney Tunes playing on TV, her step-father called her and as quick as it was there, it was gone but I had seen it; that chilling, in spite of how small, presence of fear. Dana was a coward, yes, but nobody could take her down. But I never asked.

It was an understatement that I was unwilling to let her go as January came. That dreaded flight to take was a task that bore more burden on my shoulders than the time I found out about the lying conniving art of going behind my back having an affair administrated by my ex-boyfriend; yes, the one Dana called vile and unworthy, and my best-friend. The jutting of my gut feelings were set aside and for the first time, I tried to be selfless and let her go well with warmth and love and though, the voice at the back of my head whispered to me to tell her to stay, I didn't pay heed to a word it said.

That was the first time she told me out loud that she loved me.

2016 came and I changed drastically, Dana's leaving had an impact on me. I returned back to vices of what was meant to reside in my past; to never see the light and yet, my heart ache as I realized selfishly how Dana broke yet another promise. By the time February rolled about, I was in a dreaded state of mind. Nevertheless, it did not stop time or refrain school days. Henceforth, immersing myself in the educational field proved to be by far the best idea. The very things Dana helped me get closure from were what marked the beginning of that year. Though I would never admit it out loud but yet my mind knew as it calmly thought, I acted impulsively towards the disappointment that brewed within me from Dana leaving me and so, I got back with an old flame; the very one D told me to stay away from.

For months, I lived in delusions claiming a life I did not feel comfortable in. I wouldn't deny it but the itching of my skin phased me but I did not know how to cope with it and so I ignored it. I covered some unpronounced upsetting arguments with smiles and inhumane kindness. Waking up with her absent on the side of the bed did not feel so painful by the third month of her gone. Consequently, days went by and I started to feel nothing; which allowed so much injustice on myself. Strangely so, someone knocked on my door in a moment that was unlike any and though, it changed the course of my life; I missed Dana more than I could say her name, which I barely did for every time the syllable of her name echoed in the walls of my mind, it wired the memories to start flowing through and it burnt like acid. Although it hurt, her history with me held me down like gravity, I basked into her delightfully in every silent moment.

Falling in love with her was like meeting an old friend or, cuddling with a million of possibilities of a tomorrow without the need of sorrow or doubts or even uncertain feelings that eat you from the inside. Falling in love with her is like hoping, hoping for the morning breakfast as you go to bed the night before, then it is also coming home to your favorite food. Falling in love with her is as comfortable as life teaches you good.

Dana took her life the moment after she told me she loved me in a cold motel room; I presume she was lonely but I also assume it must have been the easy way to be able to finish it all without thinking of another route to take. It took me a few moments to read the letter and I will never forget that blood-curdling scream that stuck itself in my throat. My mother found me that evening, numbly eating while I told her of the letter after months of her sending it to me. My uncle Joe confessed to me the state in which they managed to find her and while I listened with a cold calm that plagued my body, nothing compares to the pain I felt after. Moments of despair came to me and I'd listen to her voicemails again and again until I couldn't hear the world's pestering over the way she was giggling through my phone; I would never hear her again, nor would I hold her close under our blankets when the summer evenings got unusually cold. She would never call me Elle.

They buried her next to her father's grave; I did not attend the funeral and while, her own sister thought the hell of me, I couldn't care less of anybody else's feelings. Mine were stomped under the ground. They burned every belonging of hers. Left in dust, the only thing I had of her was the memories she gave to me.

I dreamt of her a week after; irony is a friend, she tucked my hair after handing me a pink smoothie as she danced on the beach, the sun, setting on the horizon of the vast sea, acting as our sole witness. All okay so why'd you mourn with her haunting blue eyes looking at me as if I was the odd one in our duo. I woke up that very morning with Bloom's The Paper Kites playing in my earphones and the first sun rays decorating my dull room. I cried all morning until my mother woke at six. 

It was the beginning of my grief.

I fell down into a pathway I designed for myself which revolved mainly around self-destruction caused through guilt, remorse; all too say, I was out loud telling how unworthy and a waste of space I was. The hysteria started and it only went spinning until I ended up in the hospital. The first time I was found admitted to a clinic in 2015 due to my mental health, Dana nourished me back to life. And in that very year of 2017 in July, nearly a year from now, I laid on a bed while facing the ceiling of the hospital wondering in vain to myself if whether her soul could venture to mine. Losing consciousness was equal to forgetting how she looked like, or how her skin felt like under the palm of my hands or even how when she spoke to me, she would blink way too much sometimes it took me a lot to concentrate back to her words instead of counting the amount of times she blinked; it was nonetheless scary. Dana told me I was brave when she wrote me what could possibly be her last words.

Suddenly, the scent of the blood that filtered the atmosphere in the hospital while it mixed with medicines turned out to be so fickle in front of the nauseating sensation that I was to be untrue to what Dana always told me I was.

Falling in love with Daniella was a fate that I always told myself I would dance into; she was the gypsy soul that accompanied my own, as in life and as in death. She unveiled forest of thoughts and still drank the river of knowledge while asking to the wise turtle that resided by of how peculiar was the course of the universe whereby life was so grand and yet, so short-lived. She taught me a great deal as she lived by me and even in death taught me one last lesson.

I could yearn about reading the book I craved for all I wanted and find no peace or I could write it myself. And Daniella was never a mere chapter; she'll live as long as I do and even when I am gone, dusted into an abyss, she'll be the tale of my life.

To Dana, for whom I promised to live while I was fighting my very last thread of hope.

I love you too.