“Things end. That’s all. Everything ends, and it’s always sad. But everything begins again too, and that’s… always happy. Be happy. I’ll look after everything else.” – The Doctor
It was summer, and it was hot and it was dark; a dark summer night with only a sliver of a moon on the sky. It was almost sad. The kind of sad that leaves a bitter aftertaste.
Silence stagnated like a pool of pain-softened dreams – just like those I kept next to me. There was something delicate, like soft tears dripping, something elusive live a clouded reflection; there was something inevitable like grief, like endings.
And I just stood there, barefoot on the edge of the ocean. On the edge of something I thought I lost long time ago.
(I thought if I held my breath and bandaged myself, they would never know.)
I was the girl that always drifted away, a collector of “what-ifs”, always moving between fire clouds and empty spaces. I was the girl with the eyes made of storms and secrets kept deeper that anyone would reach. I was the quiet girl on a hot summer night, and I could see the stars decaying, my wishes dissipating.
I could see the world ending and yet beginning at the same time. Because despite everything I still clang to poetry. I still believed in love collisions and dream-weaved futures. Because deep down I never really gave up.
You see, I was the girl that saw through the blindfold, beyond the wreckage. I was the girl that survived. Ophelia saved. By herself.