When my mother first saw a picture of him,
she gasped in wonder at his beauty.
She sighed perplexedly,
"How can a man have such grace,
looking just like an elf or a fairy?"
she asked of me.
For a brief second, my face displayed
both pride and amazement,
as to me the answer was obvious:
"He is my twin soul, isn't it natural
for him to have such grace?"
I was sixteen back then.
For nine long years our friendship
carried us both through weal and woe.
We were twin souls, equipped with supernatural kinship
as if we really were elves or fairies, closer than real twins,
without any blood connection, yet our hearts' bonds
so deep that we never failed to understand each other.
We would have conversations without saying a word,
never failing to understand each other regardless of distance.
It was as if we were connected telepathically.
No, that would be understating it, in fact.
It was more so that we shared a soul.
If God created us, surely he created us
by taking one abnormally large soul
and dividing it in two, placing us in different wombs
a large distance apart both in space and time.
I feel this is the most likely of all truths,
because when he died two weeks ago,
even before hearing of his passing
I felt that the world had become less beautiful.
I felt a pain in my heart and when I turned my eyes inward
the only thing I could see where my inner world once flourished
was now a desolate wasteland - a void stretching across infinity.
For the past five years I have been surrounded by death.
I live my life in silence, having little I find worth speaking of,
and fewer that would even listen.
And now, maybe the only pillar I had left to help me stay standing
finally collapsed, leaving me all alone in a world that is indifferent.
My heart is empty - my rib cage is a crater - my inner world a wasteland.
My soul has been torn in half and forever left me,
my grief so strong that I struggle to find a reason to keep on breathing.
All I have is silence - a silence so deafening that I am forgetting how to speak.
To some degree, I don't even want to remember how to communicate.
It doesn't matter anyway - there isn't anyone left to speak with.
I want to care about life but I don't. I wish I could desire passion,
but not only has my passions died, I am too far gone in the nihilist abyss
to even care that I am decaying.
My adult life has been nothing but a sequence
of sickness, trauma, grief, loss, death and despair.
For a long time I've struggled against this darkness,
hoping to one day reach the other shore and see a new dawn again.
But now it feels meaningless.
The despair is winning.
My grief has begun to define me,
I am so lost without you,
my beautiful twin soul,
my lovely fairy.
The despair is winning.
8 januari 1986 - 5 september 2019
sleep well, my twin soul
I am so genuinely sorry for your loss but also for the way you are feeling at the moment. You have bared your soul here and perhaps that is cathartic to some degree, however, I am aware that even writing isn't enough sometimes.
I won't patronise you with cliches but I will just say how sorry I am again and just try and hang on in there.
You have no idea how much I have missed your poetry over the year. It is wonderful to see you back yet sorrowful that you have endured such a loss. I am so sorry. Please remember him in your poetry as I believe he will live in your words. Thank you for sharing these emotions with us and for letting us know him at least in these little ways. It is never easy to express the way we feel gutted, lost so completely without that soul to share every part of our life with. The darkness and the light.
I cannot imagine your pain and grief, I really can't, when it's someone so near and dear to you. Always a part of you. I hope your heart is filled with remembering him and someday understanding and pushing forward for the purpose that is your life.
Despair is largely the reason I stopped writing regularly to be honest. I am so exhausted with life that it's becoming ridiculous. My thoughts have always been deep and my heart feels deeply as well, but I've now lost the two closest people in my entire life and beyond those two, I've also lost almost a dozen friends varying from merely acquaintances to similarly close friends but not as close as my little fairy and the person I lost in 2015. Nonetheless, a dozen people I've at some point called friends have died the past five years, from all manner of reasons ranging from drug overdoses to complications in surgery to sudden terminal illnesses appearing out of nowhere or coming back after previously having been beaten. Therefore the issue with deep thoughts and deep emotions is that they can become so deep that they transform into an abyss that is hard to climb out of.
I'm just so tired. My life has become more about death than living and it exhausts me beyond what I can describe. Once, I had an array of people who loved and supported me, making it feasible for me to fight my inner demons - but almost all of them are dead now, and yeah, the despair is winning.
I struggle a lot to see any purpose in even trying anymore. I'm so tired that I'm starting to fail to see a point in even trying. Even trying feels defeating now. Even if my intellectual understanding of the world tells me that I am overthinking it, emotionally it feels hard not to feel that the cosmos is trying to make me suffer at every turn, and that I am navigating a sea of bitterness on a sinking boat without any mechanisms to help me propel forward.