The Dead Girl

She was dead. I saw her sighed her last breath as she walked out from his apartment for the very last time July last year. Her body was nowhere to be seen, which was good because her injuries would make her body too grotesque to see. Many months have passed since then, and I know she has been relieved from all the pain. Yet still I weep for her. Still she haunted me.

February was her happiest month. It was the month where she found, or she thought she find, her true love. The poor, stupid, naïve girl gave her all to him. She thought he was the one. As I scroll through the remnants of her memories, her Facebook posts, I can see the stark difference between when she was still loved and when she was not anymore. I remember her questioning his lack of attention, and him telling her it was all her imagination. Silly girl, I thought to myself, can't you see the love was gone? The best girlfriend is the one he hasn't got yet.

Yet still she strived, still she tried. When they were first together they had talked about making a grand celebration, going back home to her country, to commemorate their meeting day, which was on a leap day. It didn't happen. He did come back to her country a few months later, not to celebrate their fateful meeting but to meet with another woman. She threw a fancy date for him that special day, atop LA's fancy high-rise lounge, just for the once-in-four-year occasion; unknowingly that he already had the other girl in mind. I am glad she didn't know it back then. I am glad all her concerns back then was, as always, the lack of acknowledgment. Poor, poor girl. Why did you even strive so hard?

Of course, she knew. She always knew, she just didn't consciously realize it. There was no mention of her anywhere in his posts. There was no public thank you note or loving words or whatever like he did before, even for the things she specially prepared for him. She felt she was an attention whore for wanting it, but deep inside she knew why she needed the public acknowledgment. When his gf told her that he said they were separated, she laughed hysterically. The unloved husband. The cruel, cold, wife. It made it all the better to garner sympathies, which exactly what happened after they made the separation public. Do you know what I did for him, I remember her yelling in despair, do you know how much I loved him? Nobody knows.

She was dead, but sometimes her ghost still lingers. The days towards their meeting day. The day where he kicked her out of the apartment. The day where she handed him the book she wrote for him, the book about their love story together, yet still he left to meet the other woman. The day where she found out about the other woman. She did not linger and weep for the love she lost, she lingered and wept for the love she gave, for her love that got trashed and tossed aside. Her grief often gave me nightmares, as I stood there helplessly, awash in her dreaded memories. One day her ghost will be gone, but for now she lingers.

Her post in 2012: "Which part that "I don't want to get married" that people failed to understand??"

His comment: "Change your mind…"

Rest in peace sweet darling. No one can hurt you anymore. You are free now. Shed the tears, grieved the grief, it is alright. You are safe now. You are free now.

Note: I am good. Something triggered me last night and the monsters returned. I just have to let them out :)