My Angel

Who am I? It is a question I ask myself everyday. Who am I ? What am I? What if the world around me was just an illusion? So I go around life always aware of the fakeness of the world. The fake nice people, the fake caring people and the fake friends.

One of the fake friends is now walking towards me. ‘Go away.’ I said, taking him as one of the fragile people that the creator of this fake world made without much consideration, thus making him have no power at all over me. But he proved to be not so fragile.

‘Jezebel.’ he said, sitting down beside me on the pavement instead of going away like I told him to.
‘Go away.’ I repeated. I wanted to be alone.
‘Is something wrong? You have been weird these few months. I thought that this would be a right time to confront you about this.’ he said gently.
‘ I need no confrontation. Go away.’
‘Jez..’ he pleaded, giving me an exasperated look.
‘Look, Keith, I’m perfectly alright, would you just shut up and go away?’

He shut up, but he didn’t go away. He just sat beside me. He was so close to me I could hear his breathing. Heave in, heave out. If he could breathe, is he a fake then? Is he an illusion? Will illusions have such patience?

We stayed like that for about an hour, then I stood up and walked away. Keith followed me. I tried telling him off, I tried walking faster to lose him, but nothing worked. Isn’t he a tad too determined?

I had to settle by imagining he wasn’t there but it was difficult due to his soft but steady footsteps.

‘Jez..’ he voiced my name again.

I walked on.

The things that happened in the past year all flashed back in my mind. Jay killing himself right in front of me. My dog getting killed in a car crash. My dad taking drugs. How I wished that all these problems would just disappear. After all, these are all just illusions. Just illusions. Maybe in reality, Jay did not die, my dog would be alive and my dad would be healthy and off drugs. But that was only in reality. I’m living an illusion, a mere game made for me to play.

Keith was still following me, like a hound after a hen, slowly but steadily. I decided to go home, or at least a place where I live, along with my illusionary parent. A place where Jay used to live. Keith could not follow me in there, it was my territory.

Jay, my sweet, smart brother. Killing himself. Holding a revolver to his head in front of me. Doesn’t he think about the consequences? About how it would affect my life? I will never know. Jay’s dead now, lying cold in his grave, out of this illusionary game. Jay, a person I admire, a person who used to be my loving brother. I could still remember the speech he gave before he shot the lights out of himself.

‘I can’t take this anymore, Bel.’ he had said. He was the only one who called me Bel. ‘I can’t take this hypocritical world. Do you know how much I hate myself? How much I wanted to kill those people that looked down on dad? How much I wanted to kill dad for being on drugs? You’re the only person I love, Bel..’ With that, he shot himself. I did not witness it as I turned away but I could hear the shot. The shot that gave jay’s life away.

I fumbled for my keys as I reached my house. Instead of being put off by the sight of my house, Keith walked up to me, took my hand and demanded me to follow him. I wanted to pull away, I wanted to shout ‘no!’ but there was an urge in his voice that made me follow him. His hand felt warm in mine. Could we feel things in imaginary games? Could we?

Of all the places I thought he would bring me, he brought me to the least expected place of all-my brother’s grave. I snatched my hand out of his and glared at him.

‘What do you mean by this?’ I asked through gritted teeth. He gave me an intense look and pointed at my brother’s tombstone.

I looked at it. The tombstone, which originally stated ‘Jay McAllister, 1985-2003, Lived a fruitful life’, now had more carvings on it. The new carvings were crooked, as if they were scratched on by sharp knives, and did not look as good as the original ones but these were much more meaningful. There were about thirty different carvings, saying what Jay meant to each and every one of them.

‘He helped me’ , one said. ‘I loved him’ , said another. ‘Never have I met such a determined guy’. ‘You will live on in our hearts forever’ . ‘A heart of pure good’ . ‘He was a good friend’ . ‘He listened to me’ . ‘He knew what I was going through when everyone else didn’t care’ . And plenty more.

An emotion came over me and I sat down on the damp grass and cried. Tears flowed without stopping down my cheeks. I didn’t even shed one tear during the funeral, and now it was like I opened a dam or something.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Keith. I reached out to hug him. Keith, Keith was my friend when everyone else deserted me. Keith, who had been with me all the time, even when I was being a pain in the ass. Keith was certainly not an illusion. He was an angel sent to rescue me from this tiresome game. As I looked into his bright, blue eyes, I could see the eyes of an angel, the eyes of my personal angel to help me through this life.