3am and counting

every night since you died, i wake up at 3am.

each and every single night.

i stare at the ceiling, wondering if you are okay. imagining what you might be doing, or seeing, or who you are with, or if you are alone.

i pretend that i've died too, and that you are waiting to give me the grand tour of the other side. gloating over the fact that you know so much more than we do, the usual.

telling me come look at this, zaida, you're gonna love this shit.

i imagine what it must have felt like, as you lay there sleeping, and your heart stopped.

did you feel anything? were you standing in your room looking at your body, confused, like in the movies?

or did you get whisked away, like in all my dreams the three weeks after you died?

in my dreams you had went to bed, and fell asleep, and you closed your eyes, and when you opened your eyes, you woke up in a different place, a place you had never seen before, and you were so confused. you were totally like what the fuck? you were so very confused and frustrated. and when you got frustrated you got angry, but it was a sorrowful anger. like you knew what happened, but refused to accept it. you kept running your hand over your forehead and hair. your face would turn bright red, you were so flustered.

you, the traveler, were so lost.

and i watched you being lost. in those dreams i was the spirit and you were alive - alive on the other side in that strange place. and i hovered over you, watching you, unable to tell you where to go and what to do or why you were there and what happened.

i felt so helpless in those dreams, because i saw everything that was going to happen to you before it actually happened, and i couldnt warn you or tell you which turn to take, or what was going to happen to you, just around the corner.

maybe that's what's happening to you right now, bebe. maybe you are feeling helpless as well.

as you watch us struggle and cope and live and try to figure out how to manage. as we make bad choices, or even worse, when we dont choose at all. maybe you see where our path leads us, but all you can do is patiently wait until it's our time to see you again.

maybe you were meant to guide us, to be that bug in our ear, that inner voice, helping us get to where we need to be.

maybe you were born to learn all of our secrets, and force us and coerce us in the gentlest way possible, like you were known to do, and maybe you were sacrificed to become our angel, so that you can help us make better choices, or even better, choose to begin with.

all these weeks later, and im still full of maybe's.

keep watching over us, please. because i really believe that we can all feel you. at the strangest times, when we dont expect it.

and keep practicing - keep leaving your little reminders for us - while we just try to believe it's coincidence, as if that really exists.

we feel you. it's cool. we know what's up.

trust me.

because i trust you.

xx zaida xx