It was a long time before they found my body. I stood there, waiting. Not that I felt compelled to stay but I was curious. How long would it take? I remembered that woman they only found a few years later. What was it? Three? And I wondered at the time, how someone could disappear from the face of this earth like that, in an apartment, no less, and no one know.
But then, here I was waiting...for someone to find me and bury me. Or at least cremate me.
I left my body to roam. I went in search of people I knew, or thought I knew. I couldn't really remember. It all seemed so long since anyone was really close to me.
Close to me.
Can a spirit weep?
Can it feel sadness?
Can it feel regret?
Because that was all that boiled up in me at this moment.
Regret. Searching for something I had lost.
Searching but not finding.
The faces of the people I thought I knew, receding.
I didn't know where to look for them. And it was a long time since they had cared about me. Or I had cared about them. A long time since we had cared about each other.
This disposable life. Where every relationship eventually becomes teflon.
I remember watching movies and when two people who cared about each other hugged (not lovers; lovers didn't hug, they kissed) I always teared up because I thought, ah, that feeling, I want that feeling, why is it I can't have that feeling?
The faces receded further. A faint memory.
Fainter.
Who was I again?
Where was my body?
I forgot.
I can't find it.
Who was I looking for? Urgency in my centre. Sadness. Regret. And loss.
A growing sense of loss.
Who was I again?
Had I always been wandering these streets searching for something?
Someone?
I can't remember.
I can't remember.
I'm lost.
I'll just keep wandering.
