By: Nanditha Nair
TRIGGER WARNING
The cold air makes my skin raise and I play connect the dots on it with a blade. The picture I create is a mural of lines and crosses only another artist like me can understand. We artists find a kindred spirit within one another, and we hope that our shared bond is enough to keep each other alive. I’m sorry to say, my friend, it isn’t. I hope that one day you find my clothes that caught the tears no one else did;
The pills, like pomegranate seeds that trapped me in the Underworld;
My last piece of work that is my body etched with beautiful red lines; and I hope that you decipher the story behind it all, because no one else could. My friend, I hope that you don’t end up like me; I hope that your mind doesn’t betray you like mine did. I hope that you find someone that can erase the art on your arms and replace it with loving kisses. I hope that you’re able to make colorful memories that drown out the dark, bleary ones. I have never asked you for a favor, but today I request you to live the life I couldn’t live. Move on, live life to the fullest and be happy. I know I am asking a lot of you; being happy isn’t easy, and I am sorry to have placed such a heavy burden on you (but you’re the only I can trust). So until we meet again, in another life, a better one; Goodbye, to the only friend I truly had.