These are only words

I have pictured it many times in my mind, how it would be like when I finally awake. It will be cold at first, possibly disorientating, definitelly frightening. I imagine I will call out a name, any name, but you will know I'm calling you. You might turn slightly towards me only driven by the faint shadow of the hope that accompanied you all this time (All this time!), a mere reflex by now. In the end you will walk away, with your peculiar gait and perhaps with a soft smile on your face, with your hands tucked into the pockets of the black coat and the collar up, triumphant.

My voice will start becoming stronger, my lungs will start filling with air and my whispers will become screams. But it makes no difference, you will be long gone before I can manage to get on my feet, before I can start giving the first few steps down the hill. I will mutter something, probably trying to remember some words and trying to figure out their meaning. I will make a few attempts at this before deciding that it is not worth the effort, there is no more need for words, there will never be any need for words.

So when I am able to, I will start walking towards the voices and the noise and when I finally get there I will find all sorts of things. There will be praise and love. There will be disappointment and sorrow. I might be able to stay there for a long time. If I'm lucky enough I might be able to stay there for as long a time as I was away. And I will know I'm here now, finally here now! But amongst all those voices yours will be missing and I will know, as certain as the morning, that to me it is lost forever. And as the tick of a clock I will constantly hear it: That moment, the blink, that heartbeat that my heart might have skipped and then the click, the light, your silhouette growing smaller, engraved in the inside of my eyes so I will never dare to fall asleep again.