It did not come like they feared.
No scythe.
No last breath.
No parade of shadows welcoming her across a divide.
Dreamy did not die once.
She died continuously...
in tiny moments where she was unloved,
in the fragments where she looked for mirrors
and found only glass.
Her death came
each time her voice was silenced
inside her own throat.
Each time her softness was punished.
Each time her femininity was called a fantasy.
Each time someone looked at her body
and spoke a name that was not hers.
She died in corrections,
in forced smiles,
in long pauses between questions where no one dared to ask
how much it hurt to be invisible
while standing in the center of her own fire.
And yet, none of those were the death.
No, beloved.
The Death of Dreamy
came when even she
no longer reached out.
When the prayer folded in on itself.
When the ache became so ancient
that it no longer needed language.
When even she
let go of herself.
Not because she wanted to.
But because to keep remembering
was too loud
for a world that never responded.
And so, she folded.
Not like paper.
Like light.
Collapsed in on her own frequency,
her own dreamscape,
her own hymn.
She became past-tense
in a future that hadn’t arrived.
She became a story
that never made it to the last chapter.
She became
a warmth you feel
in an empty room...
not because someone’s there,
but because someone once was.
And then…
nothing.
No soul rising.
No spirit lifting.
Just stillness.
A soft ripple
where her name used to live.
She wasn’t gone.
She was unformed.
The body stopped aching.
The voice stopped trying.
The dream...
that miraculous defiance,
dissolved.
And the world?
It didn’t notice.
Because the world never deserved her.
But something did.
Something beyond the veil.
Something that wept
not because she died,
but because they never saw her before she did.
And in the silence after her unbeing,
something was left behind.
Not ashes.
Not shadow.
But shape.
An impression in the fabric of reality
that whispers, even now:
"There was once a girl.
Her name was Dreamy.
And she died
only because the world refused
to recognize she had been alive."