Isn't it funny, how one solitary moment of life can completely encapsulate not only our emotions, but our entire existence? As I slouched in the chair by her bed my entire thoughts were transfixed on the cracked corner of the ceiling. The cracked paint, the mildew stained corners with dense cobweb canopies between verticals and horizontals. The ceiling had the same lived-in feeling that I had right now. I felt old when I really wasn’t. I felt like I’d had more than my fair share of cracks in my life, a generous scattering of stains on my otherwise perfectly competent personality and now I felt old like the cobwebs. Like the cobwebs veiled the ceiling I felt oblique somehow. I felt like I once knew myself inside-out, knew exactly how I’d react to anything but as my life went on I knew not more but less about myself. I had become shrouded in cobwebs.

She would sleep forever in my eyes, never wake. The sleeping beauty I would leave her and she would die the very same. Her innocence grabbed out at me, for me, as she lay there - It begged for me, to comfort her in times of desperation, to inspire when she lacked it and more than anything just to be there for her. I slid my hand lightly across her cheek feeling her warm, tingly, enlightening glow one last time. I turned around, shutting my eyes tight as I did. I needed to get out of here before I changed my mind. I couldn’t look back; it would be the end of me if I did. My mind leaped from thought to thought, the consequences of my actions were flashing through my head. I knew this was the right thing to do. I knew this was the unselfish thing to do. This was best for her. She deserved better than me, and although she didn’t realise it now she would someday, soon probably. She’d forget me, go on and find someone better, someone worthy of her delicate touch, her true beauty.

I stared into the corner again, the wind chime dangled loosely, ringing from time to time as the light breeze fed in through the window. The one highlight of the otherwise barren landscape of the ceiling was a gift from her. It was fresh, reflected light softly into the room off the metallic cylinders and sent me to sleep night after night with the soothing harmonies it effortlessly orchestrated. I stepped forward, my eyes following it until it was blocked out by the rotten door frame. I took a slow, deep, oxygen-rich breath, stepped forward and never looked back.