So since I got over 6 notes on that post ima be posting an essay I wrote for English
The title is A Cemetery at Dusk and I’m pretty sure I went out of point completely but idc
Here it is
She had once asked me what my favourite time of day was. If I’m being honest I didn’t have one until I saw the passion with which she loved dusk. I fell in love with the admiration in her eyes when she gazed at the darkening world. I fell in love with the colors of the sky that she thought were so beautiful and the way she blushed when I told her she was even more stunning. I fell in love with dusk because it’s when I fell in love with her. Now I’m in a permanent dusk, seeing nothing but the same reddish color she loved so much, but she is not here to make it beautiful anymore.
The car slowed to a stop and I heard a door open then close, the sound harsh to my ears. Ever since Camila had died in that accident, everything had become ugly to me. Every sound, every smell, every taste; everything was foreign to me. It was as if I had not only lost her, but also my ability to see any beauty in the world.
The cool November air hit my face, causing me to suck in a deep breath of fresh air-air that Camila would never get to experience again. My mother’s arm wrapped around my waist as she guided me out of the car.
I swallowed hard, trying to dissolve the large ball of sadness lodged in my the back of my throat. My mother squeezed my hand and started leading me into the cemetery.
The steady pitter pattering sound of the rain drizzling onto the umbrella my mother was holding over our heads, contrasted with the chatter of those who had come to the funeral that I could hear in the distance. They fell silent once we arrived near them, more so out of respect to me than actual grief. None of these people had cared about Camila when she was still alive.
I could smell the soil which would soon be covering her coffin, and some flowers someone had brought as well as the overly sweet scent of someone’s perfume. I could not make sense out of anything. Everything was a jumbled up mess in my head and I didn’t know how to sort it all out. I squeezed my eyes shut to try and get rid of the too loud redness I was seeing but it was no good, the red colour she used to love, the same colour I now came to abhor, would not leave.
My mother seemed to sense my distress and led me to the tree. I knew it was the one because I had asked them to bury her next to it. I kicked myself for not having noticed what type of tree it was before. I wished I could see it, the last place I ever held her in my arms. I leaned against it just like she had. It seemed like years ago when we were here, visiting her mother’s grave after her stepmother had thrown her out.
Camila had broken down crying in front of this tree, much like I was right now. I had wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer to me, knowing that the physical closeness would help her calm down. After a while her crying had quieted down into small sobs and I had kissed her cheek and told her it was going to be okay. I had promised to take care of her. She had looked up at me with those beautiful brown eyes and told me she loved me. It was the last time she had said it, because mere moments later she was dead. And I was blind.
I sank down into the ground, not caring that my pants were getting soaked by the wet ground. I could feel the steady stream of tears rolling down my cheeks and I could taste their salinity. The coffin was buried and everyone had left, my mother waiting for me a little while away, but I was still there. The rain had stopped and everything was quiet. The silence of the world echoed the emptiness I felt without her. I don’t know how much time I spent there, it’s not important anymore. The only thing that matters now is preserving her memory. I was going to make sure I would never forget a single thing about her. Her body is buried in that cemetery but the memory of her isn’t. It’s permanently engraved in my brain, she’s buried in my mind where I can keep my promise to her and take care of it forever.
Not a day will go by where I won’t wake up and think about how different it would be if we would not have gotten into that accident; if I would not be sentenced to a future of seeing the dusk she loved so much but not being able to see anything else. Not a day will go by where I won’t keep mourning her like I did that day in the cemetery. Not a day will go by where I don’t love her.
I would say feminism isn’t really about, you know, like ‘male bashing’ because I think a lot of people in particular kinda take it like all about girls hating men when it’s really like mainly focused on women loving each other, loving themselves and really encouraging one another as opposite to fight against each other…