There is a song that goes, I LEARNT TO LOSE YOU can't afford to. The singer had this tragic, low voice like the way someone sounds after they have been crying for a long time- and she sings the line over and over again until way deep in your heart you believe it is true.
It is true.
When it comes down to it, every single other thing can be taken away from you. Or you can be taken clean away from it. Like my family. More and more, my family feels like a dream i used to have. A place where i belonged to once.
It has not been long but when the memory of my family gets a little blurred, i pinch myself and say, your name is Isabella Nicole Norman, there was a time you had a beautiful whole family. But, i do not anymore. And now, this place in this crowded city is supposed to be my home. At night, the unfamiliar sounds of buses and cars, ambulances and trucks keeps me up. The building echoes with noises- the houses across and beside us are occupied.
If I ask Arya how come she lives here, she would say she will move out soon. That eventually, to a peaceful place far away from this noise with her kid and me i will not believe her though. I am losing my mind. Maybe she also is.
I am not sure how i feel about this place, relieved but sad. Is sad the word i am looking for. No, it is not big enough. What happened Inside of me is stronger than sad. Sad is stupid. It does not hurt like this. It does not even tell a little bit of the truth- that is like someone peeling back my skin each time- peeling it back and exposing everything underneath to air. Hollow? Empty? Frustrated? Lonely? Lost? Tired? There are so many words, none of them work.
Some morning, waking up in this place, I know it is Arya's. The house is big, the kitchen is a whole room from the living room. With long steps and a wide doorway with a large door separating it.
When I enter my cousin's room, I look surprised, like I am wondering why Jayden's large guitar is not resting so gracefully on the wall. No Jayden is here, though. No Tessa. No daddy. No Mama. Just three people living in a large house with numerous rooms.
Close your eyes and imagine the floor beneath your feet - hard cool maybe. Or soft warm and rugged. Sir down and lift your feet off of it and imagine you can never put them down on it again. Ever. See how quickly the feeling of that floor begins to fade? See how much you want to feel it again? How lost do you feel with no solid place to put your longing feet?
It is okay, put your feet back down on the floor. Maybe in a lifetime that floor is not going anywhere.
I can never freely tell anyone what happened but I can write it and say this story you are about to read is fiction. I can give it an epilogue, prologue, a beginning, middle and end. A plot. A character named Isabella. A sister named Tessa A sure best friend named Maxwell.
Call it fiction but hate to break it to you, it is not. Death, ghost and the angel of death is real. But you cannot go to some damn place look this up and say now I know what this story is about.
Because if you did, it will burst the grim reaper...