It is yet another day. For the first time in two whole weeks she had slept soundly. She thought about the evening before. It must be because of the long walk she took with her sister. Eight months pregnant now...she couldn’t wait for the birth of her niece. It would be another bundle of joy and all the fussing from the grannies and the aunts. She will be a spoilt one. She smiles fondly and thinks of the miracle of life. How God in His grace gives life and lights up hearts with joy and yet when He takes it away how we cry in pain and agony.
She remembers that she has skipped the first day that her running routine was to begin. She scolds herself and makes a mental note to set the alarm for five in the morning the next day. Laying in bed she goes through her phone absent mindedly as her brain takes its usual journey into the jumbled forest of thoughts and feelings. She thinks of how retarded her growth has been this whole year and wonders when it will all end. She thinks of going back to the shell she came out of somewhere along the year before. She feels a warmth spread in her as she remembers the days when she was a loner.work-home-work-home-church-home-work-home-work-cinema-home-work...that was the routine. Those days that she went to the theatre, alone and watched three movies in a row alone, in the middle of the week. The nights that she got home and sat in front of the TV set. The evenings that she went to the gym having no real friends just her family around her and her journal at night. It felt good and she wishes she could go back.
She sighs and thinks of her two close friends. A miserable trio. A typical case of "misery loves company”. She remembers the conversation she had with one of them. That she wishes she could have her old life back. Hiding behind walls. It was much safer there. And yet having one another is a consolation of sorts.
She gets ready and heads for work, blocking her thoughts saving them for later.
GOODMORNING.
She tosses a glance at her monitor. Anger is boiling in her like a pot of hot, molten lava. But it’s the hurt that seems to take over; she angrily wipes a tear away and tries to concentrate on her anger. Trying to cover the hurt. Letting the violent anger she was running away from resurface like an unleashed monster. Her face closes into a tight fist of hard granite and her eyes take on a dangerous gleam. "Don’t even think about coming near me”, they seem to say.
She digs into work with a tight energy that seems to be sizzling out of her.
When she resurfaces it is a few minutes to one in the afternoon. The smell of food wafts into the open windows of the office. Despite the cold air from the air conditioning in the small office the smell seems to take over. Her stomach reacts by making a gurgling sound. It the convulses. She runs to the nearest bathroom and retches on the bowl there.
She splashes cold tap water onto her feverish face and then stares at her reflection in the mirror wondering how on earth she ended up being in the dump she was in. like someone once said, honesty isn’t always the best policy. And this was the last straw. Just on the verge of bawling out and crying she closes that door to her emotions with a bang and that stony expression falls on her features again. This time it is intended to stay on permanently.
Hell...
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Eight
She lies awake staring at the ceiling fan an expression on her face as though she is awed by the circling of the electric device in her line of vision.
The rhythm of her heart matches that of the watch on her wrist. A habit she has been unable to rid herself of: wearing her watch to bed. Maybe it's the absence of a bedside clock. Or maybe it is just one of those things people just find themselves doing. She steals a look at the watch. It is two in the morning. And she still could not sleep. She wonders if she should go back to that prescription she had a few months ago of sleeping pills. She immediately crashes the idea like a bug and decides she will live through her acquired insomnia. She gets off the bed and reaches for her book from where it lay on the floor.
Switching on the light she winces at the blinding effect it had on her eyes and then sits on her bed and tries to read failing to concentrate. She gives up and picks up a sweater and puts on her sneakers and pulls up the hood of her sweater to block the brittle wind. She descends to the living room and opens the door letting her out. Having locked up she leaves the house and slips quietly outside the gate. It was unnaturally cold for the Dar as Salaam climate but it was a good change from the heat she was accustomed to.
She starts to walk slowly totally immersed in her own world, uncaring of the darkness and the dangers that may be laying in wait in the shadows. It felt nice. The whole area to herself. No one around to look, to jeer or to look at her. She hums a tune and stops to look up in the sky. It was clear. She smiles and wonders what the hell people think of going into space instead of just watching from a distance how beautiful the sky looks. She lets her thoughts wonder at random...aliens, the paranormal...was any of it true? Sure, she knew there was God. And that everything that happened in this world was a clock showing where we are headed and all the hidden signs that mortal man cant see, the amazing things that one cannot begin to list the magnitude of...it was a vast feeling of incompleteness and lack of depth for all the mysteries out there that were staring in our faces.
Sighing, she resumes her steps and takes a corner. A startled dog yelps and takes off in the opposite direction and she feels her own heart increase its rhythm. She is still scared of dogs. Damn! A child's cries pierce the night and she wonders about how vulnerable we all are in our sleep. Not knowing what or who will attack when. But with God watching it is only what He allows that will happen.... and for a reason too. This thought brings the many issues clogging her mind, body and spirit hindering growth of each....
The rhythm of her heart matches that of the watch on her wrist. A habit she has been unable to rid herself of: wearing her watch to bed. Maybe it's the absence of a bedside clock. Or maybe it is just one of those things people just find themselves doing. She steals a look at the watch. It is two in the morning. And she still could not sleep. She wonders if she should go back to that prescription she had a few months ago of sleeping pills. She immediately crashes the idea like a bug and decides she will live through her acquired insomnia. She gets off the bed and reaches for her book from where it lay on the floor.
Switching on the light she winces at the blinding effect it had on her eyes and then sits on her bed and tries to read failing to concentrate. She gives up and picks up a sweater and puts on her sneakers and pulls up the hood of her sweater to block the brittle wind. She descends to the living room and opens the door letting her out. Having locked up she leaves the house and slips quietly outside the gate. It was unnaturally cold for the Dar as Salaam climate but it was a good change from the heat she was accustomed to.
She starts to walk slowly totally immersed in her own world, uncaring of the darkness and the dangers that may be laying in wait in the shadows. It felt nice. The whole area to herself. No one around to look, to jeer or to look at her. She hums a tune and stops to look up in the sky. It was clear. She smiles and wonders what the hell people think of going into space instead of just watching from a distance how beautiful the sky looks. She lets her thoughts wonder at random...aliens, the paranormal...was any of it true? Sure, she knew there was God. And that everything that happened in this world was a clock showing where we are headed and all the hidden signs that mortal man cant see, the amazing things that one cannot begin to list the magnitude of...it was a vast feeling of incompleteness and lack of depth for all the mysteries out there that were staring in our faces.
Sighing, she resumes her steps and takes a corner. A startled dog yelps and takes off in the opposite direction and she feels her own heart increase its rhythm. She is still scared of dogs. Damn! A child's cries pierce the night and she wonders about how vulnerable we all are in our sleep. Not knowing what or who will attack when. But with God watching it is only what He allows that will happen.... and for a reason too. This thought brings the many issues clogging her mind, body and spirit hindering growth of each....
Seven
It has been days since she had opened the door to that dark place in her mind. Not having intentions of opening it, she is surprised to feel a burden as heavy as lead in her heart as she wakes up at 0630 in the morning.
Getting ready proves to be a tenuous task and as she sits waiting for her ride to work, she feels dampness on her cheeks from unwelcome tears. She angrily wipes them away and chides herself for her petulant mood and tries to control the now flooding tears. It is hard, she realizes, as tears flow uncontrollably and her whole body begins to shake in heart wrenching sobs.
Sister dearest limps down the stairs and barely looks at her as she lowers her now heavy body onto the next couch. She mumbles something about being fed up.
With puffy eyes she looks up from her crying but says nothing. In her hear she aches and says "I can't do much, baby. You love him."
She looks at her watch and wonders why the ride is late today. Anger boils from deep inside her for reasons she cannot fathom. She gets up and opens the front door. She walks outside and stands in the chilly weather thinking of how her superiors are going to eat her ass for being late. Her phone rings. Its mom.
She answers on the fourth ring trying futilely to stop the huge lump clogging her throat. Mom says "momma missing baby. I just want to know how you are doing"
She gives up holding it in. she cries. She says,” baby misses momma too. I love you" and hangs up.
Mom tries to call back but she does not answer. She goes back inside and into the bathroom and for ten minutes pain as sharp as a dagger twists itself inside her. And the day begins as the doors she has tried so hard to keep shut open wide. It has begun....
GOODMORNING.
Getting ready proves to be a tenuous task and as she sits waiting for her ride to work, she feels dampness on her cheeks from unwelcome tears. She angrily wipes them away and chides herself for her petulant mood and tries to control the now flooding tears. It is hard, she realizes, as tears flow uncontrollably and her whole body begins to shake in heart wrenching sobs.
Sister dearest limps down the stairs and barely looks at her as she lowers her now heavy body onto the next couch. She mumbles something about being fed up.
With puffy eyes she looks up from her crying but says nothing. In her hear she aches and says "I can't do much, baby. You love him."
She looks at her watch and wonders why the ride is late today. Anger boils from deep inside her for reasons she cannot fathom. She gets up and opens the front door. She walks outside and stands in the chilly weather thinking of how her superiors are going to eat her ass for being late. Her phone rings. Its mom.
She answers on the fourth ring trying futilely to stop the huge lump clogging her throat. Mom says "momma missing baby. I just want to know how you are doing"
She gives up holding it in. she cries. She says,” baby misses momma too. I love you" and hangs up.
Mom tries to call back but she does not answer. She goes back inside and into the bathroom and for ten minutes pain as sharp as a dagger twists itself inside her. And the day begins as the doors she has tried so hard to keep shut open wide. It has begun....
GOODMORNING.
Six
She watches as the ocean sways to the sound of its waves and watches as the foam hit the sands. She smiles. It sure looked like a frilly turquoise skirt with white lace around the hem.
She closes the book she had in hand and stares out the sea. Her mind wanders back to a few weeks back. A frown settles over her serene features. She thinks back and swallows hard as the same feelings and emotions sweep over her in a wave and she tries to shake them away mentally.
The sea glistens with sunlight and it looks inviting. She contemplates a swim and decides against it opting instead to opening her journal and writing.
Dear Diary,
It is a nice day. Guess where I am? At the beach. Isn’t that nice? I finally got that trip on my own. It is nice here. I still get haunted. And at times I feel like I may not be able to make it. But I still believe. Believe in me.
I finally managed to open up. And I am now receiving my healing. Letting go. It’s a nice feeling I must say.
I am excelling in work, I am open to new dimensions and I see things in a whole new light. And yet there is still a vacuum feeling in me. There is still something missing. I just wonder how long it will be before I find it....
She closes her journal and decides to take a walk along the shoreline. A dog barks in a distance. A crow makes a twirl before sweeping down to pick some dead sea creature from the white sands. She smiles. And walks on head bent deep in thought....
GOODNIGHT.
She closes the book she had in hand and stares out the sea. Her mind wanders back to a few weeks back. A frown settles over her serene features. She thinks back and swallows hard as the same feelings and emotions sweep over her in a wave and she tries to shake them away mentally.
The sea glistens with sunlight and it looks inviting. She contemplates a swim and decides against it opting instead to opening her journal and writing.
Dear Diary,
It is a nice day. Guess where I am? At the beach. Isn’t that nice? I finally got that trip on my own. It is nice here. I still get haunted. And at times I feel like I may not be able to make it. But I still believe. Believe in me.
I finally managed to open up. And I am now receiving my healing. Letting go. It’s a nice feeling I must say.
I am excelling in work, I am open to new dimensions and I see things in a whole new light. And yet there is still a vacuum feeling in me. There is still something missing. I just wonder how long it will be before I find it....
She closes her journal and decides to take a walk along the shoreline. A dog barks in a distance. A crow makes a twirl before sweeping down to pick some dead sea creature from the white sands. She smiles. And walks on head bent deep in thought....
GOODNIGHT.
Five
The day gloomy with dark clouds above in the sky suits her just fine. Several trips into town prove useless and again she receives bad news. This time not a muscle twitches. She is used to it now. Reality set in the night before that this was it. This was what she had been dreading all her life.
Mom calls. She hangs up crying for her daughters almost lost soul. She begs with her to go home. She refuses completely. She reasons with her mother that she can’t let her see her in the condition she is in.
She has shunned all her friends away. After fruitless attempts to make her smile, to spend time with her, try to console her she was slipped right back into the shell she built. And hurt them in the process.
"I will not share you with them”, the voice whispers,” You are mine!"
She blinks back tears, her heart longing to have some sunshine in it. Some laughter. Like a child locked in the attic she looks on as her life is taken over and dragged to the edge of a cliff. Helplessness falls over her wrapping its tentacles around her like a willow tree. And she succumbs to it, sapped of her strength to fight. She watches as all these people fade into oblivion. And she knows she will never see them again. She is alone. All alone.
"Is this really the end this time?” she wonders.
Wearily, she collects her belongings and begins the trip back home. And slowly the door in her mind creaks open. And the voices begin....
GOOD NIGHT.
Mom calls. She hangs up crying for her daughters almost lost soul. She begs with her to go home. She refuses completely. She reasons with her mother that she can’t let her see her in the condition she is in.
She has shunned all her friends away. After fruitless attempts to make her smile, to spend time with her, try to console her she was slipped right back into the shell she built. And hurt them in the process.
"I will not share you with them”, the voice whispers,” You are mine!"
She blinks back tears, her heart longing to have some sunshine in it. Some laughter. Like a child locked in the attic she looks on as her life is taken over and dragged to the edge of a cliff. Helplessness falls over her wrapping its tentacles around her like a willow tree. And she succumbs to it, sapped of her strength to fight. She watches as all these people fade into oblivion. And she knows she will never see them again. She is alone. All alone.
"Is this really the end this time?” she wonders.
Wearily, she collects her belongings and begins the trip back home. And slowly the door in her mind creaks open. And the voices begin....
GOOD NIGHT.
Four
She wakes up her mouth feeling like cotton wool. Her mood could not be worse. She remembers the visions of the last night. And she knows what they mean. As if to confirm her dread pain slices through her lower abdomen. She doubles over in pain and knows that it has finally returned.
With difficulty she prepares for work. The ride to work is short. Having been lost in thought she forgets to close the door to the dark places in her mind. Thus the boss calls her into his office as she walks in with a long face.
The drilling only serves to make matters worse. And she leaves the room having lost another friend and with possibility of losing her job.
"I told you, didn’t I?” taunts the voice,” you will come back to me. Fully. And this time I will never let you go"
She walks out to the balcony and with unseeing eyes stares at the cars down the street. Tears blur her vision and she fells lightheaded. She remembers that she needs to eat. She turns into the office and takes a cup of oats offered to her by a friend earlier. The instant it touches the walls of her stomach she doubles over in pain. It has began....
GOODMORNING.
With difficulty she prepares for work. The ride to work is short. Having been lost in thought she forgets to close the door to the dark places in her mind. Thus the boss calls her into his office as she walks in with a long face.
The drilling only serves to make matters worse. And she leaves the room having lost another friend and with possibility of losing her job.
"I told you, didn’t I?” taunts the voice,” you will come back to me. Fully. And this time I will never let you go"
She walks out to the balcony and with unseeing eyes stares at the cars down the street. Tears blur her vision and she fells lightheaded. She remembers that she needs to eat. She turns into the office and takes a cup of oats offered to her by a friend earlier. The instant it touches the walls of her stomach she doubles over in pain. It has began....
GOODMORNING.
Three
Like a robot she gets ready for work. The ride is a silent one. Today like any other day is gloomy. She is on the verge of tears. She gets to work and sets about working on her latest project. Shutting the door to that secret place she escapes to after everyone has left and gone home and lie in their beds lost in the land of subconscious. And the monster lies at the doorway awaiting it's unleashing. And to her, night falls. As everyone wakes up, her emotional world goes to sleep. Waiting. Waiting for her to return and devour her once more....
And when the nightfall’s the door shall open for day will have begun....
GOOD DAY.
She is huddled over her pc. As evening draws near the demons awaken and the voices in her head begin as whispers then they become loud, she wants to scream out. It is 1800hrs.she packs her things and switches off her mobile in an attempt to ward off phone calls. She then remembers that mom is sick. She switches the phone back on.
The ride home seems long. Along the way her mind drifts. And she slowly feels tears well up her eyes and a heavy emotion settle on her heart. And then darkness falls as her tormentors arise.
Home feels like a prison. Friends seem a bit too much to bear in their worry and concern. If they only knew. They would leave her alone.
"Don’t they understand? It’s better this way." she mumbles to herself. Humming a sad tune she decides to take a walk. Not seeing even the path she is taking she chooses the little footpaths. Dark as they are and dangerous she feels nothing. An assault would be welcome. Anything to take the pain spreading through her heart away.
"Welcome back." a malicious voice whispers, “ you were missed"
She blinks back tears of frustration.
"I told you would be back. Remember me? You used to play with me back in the days of kindergarten. Remember? Remember the little song I taught you?” he chuckles,” I knew you would. My good girl..."
She shakes her head, her vision blurred. She trips over a stone and falls face down in mud. As she gets up shaking uncontrollably the voice is still there.
"You were always playing with mud. And didn’t I tell you to look where you were going? See? Now you are back with me. Welcome back child, welcome back..."and a low chuckle again.
She runs fast. Only the voice is in her head. How fast will she run? Where will she run to? How can she escape? And it dawns on her with certainty: it has began...
She runs back home and, panting, heads straight for the shower. As the cold water beats down her now painful muscles she lets it mingle with her now constantly flowing tears. It strikes her that she had not eaten since the previous day. Not that it meant anything. She will eat when she feels like it.
Clad in her favorite t-shirt, she crawls in her bed and curls into a ball and closes her eyes against the still flowing river of tears. They trickle down her nose on one side to the other cheek and onto the pillow, slowly forming a puddle where her head has depressed the soft polyester. Images burn behind her closed lids and she squeezes her eyes shut to fight them.
"Why are you punishing me this way? Cant you just take me and take it up with me while I’m there?” she silently cries in her heart.
Goosebumps all over her body, she pulls the cotton sheet over her legs. Images of herself fill her mind. Her body is covered in slime. She is lying on her side, in a dingy room. A rat runs across the room. She is not moving. The image turns. To show her the face of the woman on the floor. At the full image of the front side of the body, her stomach convulses. She is lying on her right side. Her right arm is twisted in a not so humanly position. Her right eye is gruesomely hanging off its socket and half of it is crushed. In its place in the sockets are maggots and a cockroach or two. Her left eye is looking up at the wall behind her head. Her mouth is wide open with maggots pouring in and out. The right arm that is twisted grotesquely holds her right breast, which has been detached, from her chest. Her right arm is inside her open abdomen fingers entangled in her bowels. Between her legs a dark, round mound can be seen. Brought close she sees it is the head of an infant. Mouth dry, she gulps in a breath. And before she could swallow it she notices movement. The head of the baby moves. She screams.
Her whole body is drenched in sweat. The cotton sheet she was holding onto tightly was soaked in sweat too. She can’t lift a finger. She is numb from the horrific images she just had a premonition of. Dazed, she gets off the bed and descends to the kitchen. Glass of water in hand she settles on the couch, pops two sleeping pills in her mouth and gulps down the water. She then switches on the TV. And switches to the music channel. Slowly she drifts off into deep sleep dreading the hours ahead in the land of the subconscious....
GOODNIGHT.
And when the nightfall’s the door shall open for day will have begun....
GOOD DAY.
She is huddled over her pc. As evening draws near the demons awaken and the voices in her head begin as whispers then they become loud, she wants to scream out. It is 1800hrs.she packs her things and switches off her mobile in an attempt to ward off phone calls. She then remembers that mom is sick. She switches the phone back on.
The ride home seems long. Along the way her mind drifts. And she slowly feels tears well up her eyes and a heavy emotion settle on her heart. And then darkness falls as her tormentors arise.
Home feels like a prison. Friends seem a bit too much to bear in their worry and concern. If they only knew. They would leave her alone.
"Don’t they understand? It’s better this way." she mumbles to herself. Humming a sad tune she decides to take a walk. Not seeing even the path she is taking she chooses the little footpaths. Dark as they are and dangerous she feels nothing. An assault would be welcome. Anything to take the pain spreading through her heart away.
"Welcome back." a malicious voice whispers, “ you were missed"
She blinks back tears of frustration.
"I told you would be back. Remember me? You used to play with me back in the days of kindergarten. Remember? Remember the little song I taught you?” he chuckles,” I knew you would. My good girl..."
She shakes her head, her vision blurred. She trips over a stone and falls face down in mud. As she gets up shaking uncontrollably the voice is still there.
"You were always playing with mud. And didn’t I tell you to look where you were going? See? Now you are back with me. Welcome back child, welcome back..."and a low chuckle again.
She runs fast. Only the voice is in her head. How fast will she run? Where will she run to? How can she escape? And it dawns on her with certainty: it has began...
She runs back home and, panting, heads straight for the shower. As the cold water beats down her now painful muscles she lets it mingle with her now constantly flowing tears. It strikes her that she had not eaten since the previous day. Not that it meant anything. She will eat when she feels like it.
Clad in her favorite t-shirt, she crawls in her bed and curls into a ball and closes her eyes against the still flowing river of tears. They trickle down her nose on one side to the other cheek and onto the pillow, slowly forming a puddle where her head has depressed the soft polyester. Images burn behind her closed lids and she squeezes her eyes shut to fight them.
"Why are you punishing me this way? Cant you just take me and take it up with me while I’m there?” she silently cries in her heart.
Goosebumps all over her body, she pulls the cotton sheet over her legs. Images of herself fill her mind. Her body is covered in slime. She is lying on her side, in a dingy room. A rat runs across the room. She is not moving. The image turns. To show her the face of the woman on the floor. At the full image of the front side of the body, her stomach convulses. She is lying on her right side. Her right arm is twisted in a not so humanly position. Her right eye is gruesomely hanging off its socket and half of it is crushed. In its place in the sockets are maggots and a cockroach or two. Her left eye is looking up at the wall behind her head. Her mouth is wide open with maggots pouring in and out. The right arm that is twisted grotesquely holds her right breast, which has been detached, from her chest. Her right arm is inside her open abdomen fingers entangled in her bowels. Between her legs a dark, round mound can be seen. Brought close she sees it is the head of an infant. Mouth dry, she gulps in a breath. And before she could swallow it she notices movement. The head of the baby moves. She screams.
Her whole body is drenched in sweat. The cotton sheet she was holding onto tightly was soaked in sweat too. She can’t lift a finger. She is numb from the horrific images she just had a premonition of. Dazed, she gets off the bed and descends to the kitchen. Glass of water in hand she settles on the couch, pops two sleeping pills in her mouth and gulps down the water. She then switches on the TV. And switches to the music channel. Slowly she drifts off into deep sleep dreading the hours ahead in the land of the subconscious....
GOODNIGHT.
Two
As she anticipated, the day was worse than the night. She gets off the floor dragging her feet up the stairs once again and heads straight for the shower. Feeling better after cold water beating down her weary muscles, she moves to brush her teeth. She raises up tired eyes to the wall mirror and just as she meets her own gaze tears well up her eyes again. Her bottom lip trembles and her brow creases. Her shoulders shake in silent cries and she runs to her room. She sinks onto her bed and cries with her face in her hands.
The door to her sister's bedroom opens and she wipes her tears quickly and closes her door. Angry with herself, she curses and bangs her right arm with the wardrobe door. The pain shoots up her arm. She bangs her wrist once again. This time she doubles over in pain. And yet a sick satisfaction comes to her heart. And she feels better. Her heart was numb from aching. The physical pain changed course of pain in her being. From concentrating on her mental pain to nursing physical pain. It felt good. In a weird way she felt relief coursing through her.
Her arm throbbing she goes out her room again and brushes her teeth. Getting dressed was not tough. Having decided on black to match her stormy mood she just throws her clothes on her and descends to the living room to wait for her ride. She flips on the TV and decides on a music channel. Only to find her favorite rock band on. And the dam broke again. For some reason the ride is late to come. By the time she is a get to work her face looks like a watermelon. Work isn’t working. She leaves for home twenty minutes after arriving.
It is so hard trying to be happy, burying demons and fighting tears all the time. This facade that nothing is wrong, everything is just fine is just falling apart. The paint on these walls is falling off. And the ugly wall is now revealed. She longs for a rain sort of relief to wash the pain cutting deep within her. She wishes that as the clouds clear in the sky and let the sun out, its warmth will make her cold heart function again, her blood run again....
It’s funny how these little trips designated to bring her back to reality do not work. The mind shakes, the knocks on the head...it’s just not working.
Dear Diary,
It is payday. In more ways than I would care to explain. I am living on the edge but I am soon toppling over. My suicidal thoughts are returning. This time in multitudes I wish, oh how I wish to close my eyes and never wake up. There are too many walls that I cannot run down. There are too many rivers to cross means of which I have not. And I have tried. But I cant. And now I am tired of fighting. I quit. There is no silver lining for me. That crap is for other lucky bastards out there. As for me, I was born to be miserable. And misery has become me. I shall succumb to it. And live it. God knows how many times I have run suicide through my mind. But watt if I don’t die? Can I really face the music then? My soul is burning. A slow painful flame. My heart's rhythm is that of a dying bird. If my reflection could show whom I am inside, I would be dead by now. My dreams haunted by memories and unknown futures. My nights turn into day. My worst fears have come alive and my worst nightmares catch up with me in broad daylight. I have no life. My life has been taken away from me. I am living and breathing hell. Should I do it? Should I sell my soul to the devil? And you tell me not to worry? That troubles do not last always? Well it's been over ten years now. As wasted as worry is it is the only thing keeping me sane. They say to me "every cloud has a silver lining" well, not for me. They say when you feeling sad and lonely just search your heart for that inner strength. What inner strength? At hope? For inside me there is only failure. A hopeless case. How can I look inside myself when there is absolutely nothing? Apart from filthy, malicious emotions. My soul is so dark that the last glimmer of hope has died. I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I have found me and I am going to destroy me. And I am not running anymore.
She puts down her pen and closes her diary and picks up the bottle of sleeping pills sitting beside her on the table and heads for her room....
GOODNIGHT.
The door to her sister's bedroom opens and she wipes her tears quickly and closes her door. Angry with herself, she curses and bangs her right arm with the wardrobe door. The pain shoots up her arm. She bangs her wrist once again. This time she doubles over in pain. And yet a sick satisfaction comes to her heart. And she feels better. Her heart was numb from aching. The physical pain changed course of pain in her being. From concentrating on her mental pain to nursing physical pain. It felt good. In a weird way she felt relief coursing through her.
Her arm throbbing she goes out her room again and brushes her teeth. Getting dressed was not tough. Having decided on black to match her stormy mood she just throws her clothes on her and descends to the living room to wait for her ride. She flips on the TV and decides on a music channel. Only to find her favorite rock band on. And the dam broke again. For some reason the ride is late to come. By the time she is a get to work her face looks like a watermelon. Work isn’t working. She leaves for home twenty minutes after arriving.
It is so hard trying to be happy, burying demons and fighting tears all the time. This facade that nothing is wrong, everything is just fine is just falling apart. The paint on these walls is falling off. And the ugly wall is now revealed. She longs for a rain sort of relief to wash the pain cutting deep within her. She wishes that as the clouds clear in the sky and let the sun out, its warmth will make her cold heart function again, her blood run again....
It’s funny how these little trips designated to bring her back to reality do not work. The mind shakes, the knocks on the head...it’s just not working.
Dear Diary,
It is payday. In more ways than I would care to explain. I am living on the edge but I am soon toppling over. My suicidal thoughts are returning. This time in multitudes I wish, oh how I wish to close my eyes and never wake up. There are too many walls that I cannot run down. There are too many rivers to cross means of which I have not. And I have tried. But I cant. And now I am tired of fighting. I quit. There is no silver lining for me. That crap is for other lucky bastards out there. As for me, I was born to be miserable. And misery has become me. I shall succumb to it. And live it. God knows how many times I have run suicide through my mind. But watt if I don’t die? Can I really face the music then? My soul is burning. A slow painful flame. My heart's rhythm is that of a dying bird. If my reflection could show whom I am inside, I would be dead by now. My dreams haunted by memories and unknown futures. My nights turn into day. My worst fears have come alive and my worst nightmares catch up with me in broad daylight. I have no life. My life has been taken away from me. I am living and breathing hell. Should I do it? Should I sell my soul to the devil? And you tell me not to worry? That troubles do not last always? Well it's been over ten years now. As wasted as worry is it is the only thing keeping me sane. They say to me "every cloud has a silver lining" well, not for me. They say when you feeling sad and lonely just search your heart for that inner strength. What inner strength? At hope? For inside me there is only failure. A hopeless case. How can I look inside myself when there is absolutely nothing? Apart from filthy, malicious emotions. My soul is so dark that the last glimmer of hope has died. I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I have found me and I am going to destroy me. And I am not running anymore.
She puts down her pen and closes her diary and picks up the bottle of sleeping pills sitting beside her on the table and heads for her room....
GOODNIGHT.
One
She wakes up with a start, a cold sweat filming her skin. She swings her legs off the bed and sits her head bent toward her knees. She stares at her hands which are shaking and absently a tear mixed with sweat trickles down her cheek and drops onto her down-turned palm. She breathes in deeply and slowly exhales. On shaky knees she gets up and heads downstairs, the light at the landing blinding her momentarily.
She walks into the living room and flips on the TV. A nightmarish image of a twisted dead body blurs in her tear-filled vision. She thinks of death. Again.
"Coward..." a little voice whispers in her head.
She scowls. She then wipes at her eyes. She tries to shun away thoughts and images that keep lurking in the back of her brain constantly now. She tries to concentrate on the movie showing on the TV. It doesn’t work. She absently pads into the kitchen and reaches for a glass on the dish rack. Her hand stops just a few inches above a knife. She sighs and continues to get a glass. She pours water and drinks in two gulps. She sees something moving out the window. She makes a mental note to tell the house help next day to fix the light. She concentrates on the shadows and tries to make shapes out of them. Not a very successful process. She gives up and pours another glass of water and walks back into the living room settling on the couch.
Again her mind drifts. This time she lets it. She tries to see how her death would affect those close to her. She tries to plan her funeral and how to make sure her ghost doesn’t rest till her mother is rid of grief. She thinks of this strong woman who gave up a lot for her. And then she thinks of her one true love. How he cried night and day after she ran off to seek adventure. She sighs and blinks tears back. Her neck is stiff from stress. She kneads the muscles of which and closes her eyes against the flood of relief....
A scream tears through the still of the night. For the second time that night she wakes up with a start. This time she winces against the sharp pain that tears through the muscles of her neck. She looks around sleepily trying to make out the surroundings. She realizes that she fell asleep on the couch.she swears softly and gets up.she knocks the glass off the coffee table as she stops herself from tripping on the carpet as she stumbles toward the stairs.
She swears again and goes into the kitchen and looks around for a mop at the stair bottom. None is in sight. She walks into the dining room and looks for keys on the table.none are in sight.she swears, this time loudly. That meant they were in her sister's bedroom who was sound asleep.she sits on one of the four chairs at the dining table and stares at the screen that she had not switched off.another movie had begun.this time a comedy it seemed.she just stares, seeing nothing really, and gets lost in thought again...
"Am I ever going to be happy?"she wonders quitely.
She thinks again of so many other things but her mind seems to be clogging. She reaches for her journal/diary from the liquor cabinet where she left it the night before. And she starts writing. Her best therapy.
Dear Diary,
As usual, it is only in times of trouble that I resort to taking refuge in your pages. For this I am sorry. I know it should be collection of good and bad experiences both. To bring balance. But it's how I am and I can’t stop me. Believe me, I have tried. Today, as usual, I have had one of my spells. Only this one is pretty bad. Because there is one thing lacking. I am not scared anymore. At held me together was my fear for the consequences of my actions. But I am not scared anymore. I live and breathe rebellion now. I have tried to convince myself to go back but I cannot. I need a miracle. I have gone too far off base. I cannot return.
Anyway, I wake up with a sense of dread this morning. Like something was going to happen. And you know what that means, right? Then my day just took a trip downhill. I went from a fuming canon to a broken dam. I cried with no reason, uncontrollably. Sister dearest could not do anything, as usual. As if knowing, mom called. And the words she said to me...my! I melted into a puddle of slime.its too much to bear.she loves me. But I am seeing myself moving further and further away from her. Why? I don’t know. I have tried and tried but I cannot go back.
I do not know where to turn toil need saving. From myself. Because I am a ticking bomb soon to explode. As usual, I do not make much sense. The reader may not get what I am saying. But you know...deep down you know.... save me! Somebody save me!
She closes her journal/diary and sighs deeply in despair. She folds her arms on the table, lowers her head on them and rests her forehead and breaks into heart-wrenching sobs. For a whole half hour her stifled cries wrecks her body, causing convulsions until her head hurts, the muscles of her stomach are too tight and she can’t cry no more. She gets up slowly and walks into the kitchen. She flips on the light and rips off a piece of kitchen towel. She blows her nose and splashes water onto her now hot n puffy face. Her gaze strays to the knife on the knife rack. She sakes her head and fresh tears spring to her eyes. She rebukes the little voice playing with her mind.
"Take it...", it says.
A strung out "no!" comes out her mouth. She runs out the kitchen and throws herself on the floor and cries herself to sleep. The sun awakens her on her face....
GOODMORNING.
She walks into the living room and flips on the TV. A nightmarish image of a twisted dead body blurs in her tear-filled vision. She thinks of death. Again.
"Coward..." a little voice whispers in her head.
She scowls. She then wipes at her eyes. She tries to shun away thoughts and images that keep lurking in the back of her brain constantly now. She tries to concentrate on the movie showing on the TV. It doesn’t work. She absently pads into the kitchen and reaches for a glass on the dish rack. Her hand stops just a few inches above a knife. She sighs and continues to get a glass. She pours water and drinks in two gulps. She sees something moving out the window. She makes a mental note to tell the house help next day to fix the light. She concentrates on the shadows and tries to make shapes out of them. Not a very successful process. She gives up and pours another glass of water and walks back into the living room settling on the couch.
Again her mind drifts. This time she lets it. She tries to see how her death would affect those close to her. She tries to plan her funeral and how to make sure her ghost doesn’t rest till her mother is rid of grief. She thinks of this strong woman who gave up a lot for her. And then she thinks of her one true love. How he cried night and day after she ran off to seek adventure. She sighs and blinks tears back. Her neck is stiff from stress. She kneads the muscles of which and closes her eyes against the flood of relief....
A scream tears through the still of the night. For the second time that night she wakes up with a start. This time she winces against the sharp pain that tears through the muscles of her neck. She looks around sleepily trying to make out the surroundings. She realizes that she fell asleep on the couch.she swears softly and gets up.she knocks the glass off the coffee table as she stops herself from tripping on the carpet as she stumbles toward the stairs.
She swears again and goes into the kitchen and looks around for a mop at the stair bottom. None is in sight. She walks into the dining room and looks for keys on the table.none are in sight.she swears, this time loudly. That meant they were in her sister's bedroom who was sound asleep.she sits on one of the four chairs at the dining table and stares at the screen that she had not switched off.another movie had begun.this time a comedy it seemed.she just stares, seeing nothing really, and gets lost in thought again...
"Am I ever going to be happy?"she wonders quitely.
She thinks again of so many other things but her mind seems to be clogging. She reaches for her journal/diary from the liquor cabinet where she left it the night before. And she starts writing. Her best therapy.
Dear Diary,
As usual, it is only in times of trouble that I resort to taking refuge in your pages. For this I am sorry. I know it should be collection of good and bad experiences both. To bring balance. But it's how I am and I can’t stop me. Believe me, I have tried. Today, as usual, I have had one of my spells. Only this one is pretty bad. Because there is one thing lacking. I am not scared anymore. At held me together was my fear for the consequences of my actions. But I am not scared anymore. I live and breathe rebellion now. I have tried to convince myself to go back but I cannot. I need a miracle. I have gone too far off base. I cannot return.
Anyway, I wake up with a sense of dread this morning. Like something was going to happen. And you know what that means, right? Then my day just took a trip downhill. I went from a fuming canon to a broken dam. I cried with no reason, uncontrollably. Sister dearest could not do anything, as usual. As if knowing, mom called. And the words she said to me...my! I melted into a puddle of slime.its too much to bear.she loves me. But I am seeing myself moving further and further away from her. Why? I don’t know. I have tried and tried but I cannot go back.
I do not know where to turn toil need saving. From myself. Because I am a ticking bomb soon to explode. As usual, I do not make much sense. The reader may not get what I am saying. But you know...deep down you know.... save me! Somebody save me!
She closes her journal/diary and sighs deeply in despair. She folds her arms on the table, lowers her head on them and rests her forehead and breaks into heart-wrenching sobs. For a whole half hour her stifled cries wrecks her body, causing convulsions until her head hurts, the muscles of her stomach are too tight and she can’t cry no more. She gets up slowly and walks into the kitchen. She flips on the light and rips off a piece of kitchen towel. She blows her nose and splashes water onto her now hot n puffy face. Her gaze strays to the knife on the knife rack. She sakes her head and fresh tears spring to her eyes. She rebukes the little voice playing with her mind.
"Take it...", it says.
A strung out "no!" comes out her mouth. She runs out the kitchen and throws herself on the floor and cries herself to sleep. The sun awakens her on her face....
GOODMORNING.
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