You know what I thought when you left me?

That the world ended. Because I was because of you.

When you told me those last words, I could feel my inside cracking, like a house falling apart in an earthquake. My substance turned into debris as you finished those words.

For a while, all I could do was to shout from under that debris. Nobody heard me. Nobody saw me.

I shouted until I lost voice. At that point, any hopes that I had that somebody, or you, would hear me faded away.

And I went into silence.

I said nothing. I heard nothing. My mouth did not move, nor did my tongue. My ears stopped listening. Everything was still.

Everything other than something in me that gradually started becoming louder. Something that started producing chatter in me, telling me how I was and wanted to be. How I wanted the world to be.

Who was saying all of these things if my mouth did not move? Who was it if it was not me? If it was inside me, how come it was not me?

Or maybe was it?

Maybe I was voicing you my whole life. Now, it was time to voice me.

You know what I think now that you left me?

That the world just started. Life as it should be.