The heels of my feet are bleeding; it’s the same pair of platforms. You never learn, do you? I’ve fallen sick like a wretched puppy caught in the thunderstorm; there hasn’t been a single morsel of food intake since. Had the misfortune to wake up half an hour prior to my pitch, dash off without breakfast and completed it, with not much of a hassle, but was told that I could have performed so much better. What ever happened?
I remembered how I’ve injured myself at the same spots and somebody has taken care of them so gently. But I was misled, I was touched, only that.
The medicine box is empty, have forgotten to fill it up, why haven’t I?
There are so many thoughts racing through my flustered mind, eager to deliver. I’ve been back to the place where we were last together, you do know that I’ll be reminded of you, every single time, don’t you? Term break starts on September, not August, so it’s close to a few days more than a month of school. I’d like to head home, bathe and curl inside my blanket, huddling close to this warmth. I can feel my body heating up and this flu eliminating my healthy cells by the second. This is illness; we all call it a damned thing.
I’ve started reading her blog again, stayed away periodically, when things get too personal to bear. Her grief is so relatable.
I tried, I tried. I don’t mean to be weak, I’ve tried to say, but it’s just like when people ask, “How are you feeling today?” or “How have you been?” They don’t really want to hear
“No, I’m not okay at all. In fact, I haven’t been okay for a long time since. I’m plagued with illness, my best friend betrayed me, I lost the love I loved the most, I don’t know who to trust anymore. There are piles of schoolwork and responsibilities that await me in school and all I want to do is drink into the late nights and not have to answer to anybody. All I want to do is to be pretty, confident and disappear forever and ever. So I’m not okay. My life is pretty much fucked and if you don’t give a damn, it’s okay with me too.”
No, they jolly well don’t wish to hear that. They don’t wish to have any accountability for your weakness. So you look at them in the eyes, smile and say, “I’m fine.” Everybody has their own pressure, their own insecurities and fears; you don’t have to impose yours on them.
He asks me, “Why do you always talk about death? Do you like dying this much?” That prompted me to think of the other day when I was making my enquiries online on why people resort to drowning. That’s painful, and then I realize
That if you want to die, you’re so determined to die, and you would. You would go against humans’ natural instinct to survive and jump out of the water for air. You’ll purposefully swim out into the deepest depths of the sea, swim so far out you’ll never be able to save yourself, or you could tie a heavy rock to your feet.
You could die, if you really want to.
Isn’t that scary? What pain has done to people and how pain will end their lives? I definitely do not have hidden innuendoes on this research; I’ve dropped the thought, for a little while. It’s good to be alive, albeit painful. It’s good.
The food is untouched, this post’s been long. Thank God for my illness, that I’ve the chance to type out my earnest feelings, the inner self that I’ve lost touch with for a while. Isn’t it scary? That I’ll never forgive you. That till now, I can’t fully grasp the reality of how you could have stabbed me in the back, this fatally.
We could chase forever, and still be alone.
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