What if you woke up and saw your face on someone else’s body? And then when you looked closer, that body is also yours. What would you do?
//
I woke up and felt normal. I’ve been feeling this way since last Tuesday. Nothing’s changed. I felt nothing. No happiness. No sadness. It began three days ago, when I was in the brink of falling into the void. I can attest that you really do see a thin string attached to your index finger. The string is your only hope to get out of the cliff you’re dangling over. Instead of making an effort in pulling myself up, I grabbed the scissors from my pocket.
When you fall into the void, you realize it’s not dark. It’s not scary. It’s not what they describe as complete emptiness. Contrary to that, the void is the brightest place I’ve been in my entire life. It was like that one moment I opened my eyes when I woke up from the accident when I was ten years old. I was blinded by the light in that hospital. In the void, I was swimming in complete brightness. I was drowning.
I’m not in heaven.
I just know that I’m not in heaven. My father said people who kill themselves will never go to heaven. But I didn’t kill myself.
//
I opened my eyes and saw her.
She was petting my dog. She was eating my cereal. She was wearing my clothes. She put on the bracelet my mother gave me. She kissed my boyfriend before she went to my job. She was living the life I was supposed to live.
All my life I’ve been searching for the things I cannot find, wishing for the things I cannot attain, and chasing the things I cannot grasp. But now I feel like my brother and I finally have something in common. He was a mute. He wanted to speak but he cannot. I, on the other hand was “normal” in the eyes of society. He wanted to live normally and so he did. But me? I wasn’t grateful for what I had. And now, I want to run away from my mistake of running away when my life was perfectly planned ahead. I’m not me anymore. I turned into a bird without wings.
How do I get out of this mess I put myself in? I cannot just un-jump from the cliff. I cannot just un-drown from the endless white walls. I cannot just take back the words I said to hurt those I wasn’t supposed to hurt, and my heart cannot just heal from those who wasn’t supposed to hurt me. I cannot un-kill myself. But I know I didn’t kill myself.
And now I am stuck here, looking at that beautiful girl I once despised in the mirror. At first, I didn’t really recognize who she was. She looked so different from what I’m used to seeing everyday. I didn’t notice her hair, her waistline or her branded outfit, the things I cared about before all this happened. What resonated with me was how happy she looked. Her eyes screamed happiness and her face glowed in contentment.
But I can hear her thoughts. I can hear every word she only speaks in her mind. I can hear them. I’m not sure if she is me and if those thoughts are mine like how that Gucci handbag she’s using once belonged to me.
I can hear her thoughts. I can hear how she’s ranting about the morning traffic, how she hates the after taste of her coffee, how she misses Froggie the dog, and the dinner she’ll cook tonight. From what I remember, I can’t recall thinking those thoughts. In fact, I loved the traffic since I have time to do my make-up. I like the taste of the coffee, even the after taste. Well, we both miss Froggie, that’s for sure. But I don’t cook dinner. Only microwaved dinners or take-outs. I can hear her again.
Perhaps I’d try to speak to her.
//
// This is a new segment in my blog. I might write this in NanoWriMo or somewhere if there will be some readers who might want to read this, which I highly doubt. I might not write this now but I might write it in the future. I may not even write this forever. Forgive me, I’m just lazy or the seasonal writer’s block may hit me whenever. Not continuing to write this for a time doesn’t mean anyone can take this intellectual property that belongs to me and claim it as theirs.
© 2015 by Cxnderella. All rights reserved.
No part of this excerpt may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the author. //
the lone wolf never sleeps 