digital painting 2400x4800(click to enlarge)
details
When you lose someone, it doesn't really hit you right away. There's always that period where everything seems so surreal, like, "No, that couldn't have happened. It just couldn't." You keep on going, not quite oblivious but also not entirely aware either. Then one night, in the middle of a random dream about an almost forgotten memory, it hits you. She cant be here, she's dead. This is all a dream. You wake up and sit in bed staring blankly at your creepy reflection on the mirrored closet doors. You realize that there was a lot more that you needed to say, a lot more to apologize for, but its too late. You wish that somehow you can have one last proper conversation with her, even if its just in a dream and you're just talking to yourself, telling yourself what you subconsciously wish to hear her say. But it's not really her. It's a fake orange imitation that will just flush away with the incessant buzzing of your alarm clock. The real her is gone, already taken away on a kite long, long ago. It's been almost two whole years. You missed your chance. Mais c'est la vie. Other people have carelessly lost their grip on their own balloons. No one has time to help you find your lost kite, so you just sit there and wait. You just sit there and wait for the incessant buzzing.
RIP Catherine
