**Seventy Nine**

The ground below my feet is solid but I feel afloat. There is not light but I can see the way. My toothpaste is running out soon. The tiled floors of the shower need to be dried off so that no one would slip and fall. No one. I spat out the foamy stuff you get when you brush your teeth. There was blood with it; probably I have been brushing too hard again. Like I always have. I gargled and spat the remains out; the liquid was rusty yellow because of the blood. I splashed water onto my face. Once. Twice. And gave myself cold hard slaps to wake me up. I find myself staring at the mirror in front me. Myself staring at me. I feel as if the mirrors might just crack anytime soon from the times I stared at myself here. I combed my hair with my fingers and that’s it. I’m ready for the day.

My feet shuffled as they dragged themselves out of the toilet into my room. My unmade bed. My messy desk with papers and pencils and everything else you’d find on a desk everywhere but at place. My clothes from yesterday still lay on the floor. Along with all the other undone laundry. It’s a mess; my mess. I stepped over the pile of clothes to the curtains; maybe I should let some light in. slowly but regrettably I draw them open. The light penetrated my eyes like a burning laser, I ran away from it.

The milk spilt again today but I didn’t cry. The glass pieces on the floor had their revenge. I watched my blood fuse with the white liquid on the floor. No. I did not scream, did not yell. I left the mess for later. The cold chilly tap water rushed through the cut, it stings. These things do happen to me everyday. These things are incessant, very. I stood by the sink, watching my blood flow down the drain, into the sewers, where millions of other substances everybody washes down the sink, flushes down the toilet go.

The bleeding had stopped. I sat by the window today. Watching people pass me by, not knowing I was watching. I watch them live their lives to the fullest. With each passing day, my existence becomes dwindle; like a dewdrop in the morning and by noon, it is no longer there.

Tomorrow will be another day. My Colgate will be mixed with blood. I’d stare at myself in the mirror. Attempt to let light into my life and fail terribly at it. Spill my milk; breaking my glass. I don’t intend to grimace you with what happens to me everyday when I’m at home. Nor do I seek pity from anyone and everyone who reads this.

Daily I sit on the edge; trying to decide whether to jump or not. Then the wind comes; blowing through my hair, making me feel as if I had wings to fly. I’d close my eyes and feel a certain sense of difference in my life. When I open them, I return to this life of mine; crammed with all the unrefined facts. I’d climb back down the same rusty stairway where my footsteps would echo as I walked. The metal door would creak as I yanked it open after banging my fist on it twice; it only opens that way.

I am at home; under the sheets; curtain drawn, lights off. I hugged myself and checked my watch; waiting for the sun to set. Tonight I am alone in the living room; staring at the blank screen on the television. I am watching television. I hear cars zooming by every five minutes. My dinner lay in front of me; untouched. I have lost my appetite, my will to consume any form of substance called ‘food’.

I want to run away. I want to escape. I want to break out of this imprisonment I am in.

I wanted to smile; to laugh. It’s happening again; the same reason why I never liked coming out. Everything has repeated itself; like how I’d spill my milk every morning. I got up; I know I shouldn’t leave like I did the other day. But I couldn’t. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted to flee.

I stormed out again. I ran across the street. No, this is not the part where a car comes and crushes my skull and sends me to the hospital where someone would come and care for me. No. This is different. Pass the park into the small hill further down. I will not cry, but I did.

I watch everyone with two legs, two arms, two eyes, two ears, a mouth and a nose; same as me, live their lives. Watch the beautiful swoon others with their looks. Envy the rich spending on the newest of new things. Observe the intelligent pawn each other at chess when I can’t even figure out how to start that game. Study the talented do what only I can dream in my wildest of dreams.

I stare at myself in the mirror and wait for it to crack today. I swallowed down my colgate today. I didn’t have milk today. I am lost. I stare at myself in the mirror. Damn it! Why won’t you just crack and tell me I’m ugly. My fist did the trick; blood trickle down the cracked mirror onto the sink. I watch my distorted face in the mirror. I’d ask god why he did this to me; but god can’t even hear me. I can’t hear myself but I can hear everyone and everything else. I pulled out that piece of glass stuck in my skin. It hurts but not as much as it should.

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i pace myself in my room trying to figure out why the hell am i even doing here. i am not crazy. i can sleep in the mid afternoons where the sun shines the hardest without air conditioning or fan. i am not crazy. i finish my bath in 15 minutes and stand under the shower for the rest of the time, watching the water rush down my widely open eyes. i am not crazy. i lie under my bed and stare at the matress from under there and count the threads i see. i am not crazy. i sit in my closet when im sad and hope the oxygen in here runs out. i am not crazy.

i dont know who i am anymore.



i off all the lights but turn on the night light, cuz im afraid a pair of eyes might stare back at me. i am not insane. i sit on my bed. my parents think i'm sleeping but i am thinking to myself. trying not to scream everytime the rats on the roof scramble. i am not insane. i go to the roof when my parents aren't home to sit there wondering if i could jump from here and make it to my neighbour's yard. i am not insane. i feel as if the cracks on my wall are healing themselves. i am not insane. i sleep with my stuffed toys but sometimes i get scared just staring at them and throw them off the bed. that made things worst cuz now it's staring at me from the corner of the room. i end up hiding under my blanket for the night. i am not insane.

i dont know who i am anymore.



i stuff my headphones into my ear. set the player to play. enters temporary shock cuz it was at full blast and Chester was screaming. i am not childish. my phone runs out of battery. my mp3 hasnt been charged in months. my radio is turned on low as my mum would scream. and that's not my kind of music. i am not childish. i still think i'd survive if i were in a pool and the lightning strikes. i'd just come out all burnt and frizzed up. i am not childish. i sing and dance in my room, in the shower, on the streets, whenever i feel like it. i dont care who's watching. i am not childish. i know i can climb a tree and make the branches bend so i wouldnt need to jump down. i am not childish. i collect highlighters, colour pencils and markers. i keep them though they're are no use to me anymore. i am not childish.

i dont know who i am anymore.



i dont know who i am anymore