Darkness ensconces the room and the unnatural orange-y light fills it with the infra red heat that emanates from the grey heater. Underneath the layers of fluffy blankets and duvet, I am shifting; restless. Then it racks me – a pain so acute I am plunged into senselessness. Maybe I let out a moan, a sound of aching but even to my own ears the sound is minute, nonexistent.
I’m hurting; everywhere, every point, every joint, every muscle, every organ, everything... I’m bleeding; eyes blinded from the dark, yet I can see it. I see myself bleed. And yet my physical being is perfectly fine.
I’m hurting; everywhere, every point, every joint, every muscle, every organ, everything... I’m bleeding; eyes blinded from the dark, yet I can see it. I see myself bleed. And yet my physical being is perfectly fine.
I don’t even know where this pain comes from, but I do know it’s the sheer, hollow emptiness that’s engulfing me. And through this mixture of obscure pain and night’s darkness comes clarity. One moment, when everything is so very clear; the Nyx of my imagination decides to visit me. Every so often, she bestows upon me lucidity, sense of what is and even inspiration. No; naught of that this night. Tonight it’s psychosis. Tonight it’s what isn’t.
I cry. The tears drip out of me, constricting me, choking me with such completion that in some back recess of my mind I think it’s an end. Not the end, perhaps, yet still... an end. Nay, no such mercy. I keep crying. Time is of no essence, it just floats away.
Claws; long, sharp, clutch at the covers on my bedding. Strength enough to shame an Amazon perhaps, I think, my thoughts nonsensical as I watch. I know not my own might, nor what my body seems to be doing. I cannot feel what my own hand touches; I can only see... as though I am not one with it.
Terra firma!!
The thought forms as the pain takes to yet another level. I see the words appear serpentine, smoky in front of my eyes. Yes, Terra firma. Yes, solid Earth. I need to find that. So emerges that moment of clarity. And in that second or two, my coherent thoughts only awe at the possibility of such pain, such utter and heightened pain being inflicted on the intangible state.
How? I wonder.
The waves hit again, tears spill – big, fat, small, thin, delicate -like cherry blossom leaves on a spring day. I hear the hail patter against the windows behind me. I want to go outside. I am aching so, so very bad to go out there. To get sprayed with the hail, and the rainstorm. Yet again, how so? Convention denies it. The rules. So many rules. I do what I have to. I stay. And subject myself to this self inflicted, unintended torture. I stay because the rule book says now is the time to sleep. Hatred bubbles in me for all that convention, standard, principle. I feel sick. I start sobbing yet again. I scream into the soft, feathered pillow, a scream to which the world is always, always, deaf to.
I cry myself dry...till the tears no longer come...and fall, in that state, into an abyss of fatigued, dreamless sleep...
*
The sun’s rays stealing through the off-white curtains embellish themselves on my face. My eyelids flutter and I open my eyes. I wake up. It’s one those ‘waking up’s when I have no clue as to who I am, what my name is... none of that cumbersome worldly knowledge. It’s surreal. It’s Xanadu. I want to stay in that state of ignorant bliss for always. Yet, as is the way with the world, the surreal passes, the cumbersome sinks back into place.
I watch my feet step on the stone steps; it is déjà vecu, déjà senti and nostalgia - it makes me nauseated.
I watch my feet step on the stone steps; it is déjà vecu, déjà senti and nostalgia - it makes me nauseated.
The same cream coloured pump shoes.
The same black skinny jeans.
The same slim silver Giordano watch.
The tiny list forms itself in my mind as I think of the attire I’d word the first day so early this year when I’d come to the College. Today was to be the last. And my dress is green in contrast with the bright orange of that day, my hair in its state of wet curls that are slowly drying into natural cupid curls – unlike the brushed and flat-iron straight bob of that day. And the girl I am is different. Very different.
My vision splits itself into two. I watch everything from the eyes of the girl that stepped into this College that wet day in late January and with the slightly wiser girl of today.
I watch myself walk out of those automated doors with the group that was assigned to me. Feeling strange, yet with an exhilaration that comes with new beginnings. I remember the times I’ve walked out of the same door, my pace as always double times that of usual... I remember the time that 'handsome' Jared talked to me first on those stone steps. And I see the confidence in my walk as I enter the same doors today.
SIC. Student Information Centre. I remember the times I was there alone. The times I was there with people. With Rage. I find myself laughing to myself. I would miss him so, I think, and I mean it.
The escalator that leads up towards the Dean’s and Principal’s offices...and the music room. I remember my trying to practise my piece on the pianoforte for Graduation there. Alessandro trying to teach me to play guitar. A smile tugs at my lips.
I look towards the staircase. The times I’ve run up and down it, crying, laughing.
I keep walking, towards another pair of automated doors. I look around at the cafeteria. The painful hours spent sitting alone, invisible. Then the more recent days, spent with not one free moment alone. Running after Jared with a pin all over the place, getting in trouble for running in the corridors, cornering him and the bruise of touch he gave me - the first time I got into trouble during the whole year... Having lunch with Rage, ending up almost every time hitting him. And with Alessandro and Vencel... Another smile tugs at my lips... The year didn’t end with me being such a loner after all, I think...
My hand is on the exit door, and I glance back one last time, reminiscing, before I open it and start down the stairs. As I open the door at the bottom, sunlight pours down, warm, golden... I look around the campus. Towards the car park, the short cut I used to desperately take towards my haven; the library... then towards the grass field and the pathway I used to take to English before I passed the exam and dropped it... the desolate grey branches and muddy, sodden grass of winter had now become lush green canopies and beauty dew-y carpets. A lightness touches my heart; feeling a loveliness of the end. The sweetness without bitterness. I am still smiling...
A figure moves a little way beyond and I think to myself how attractive the lean figure is, yet ignore it. I am still looking around, reflecting.
Before I know it, he is in front of me.
“Hey!” he says amused, his eyes lingering on me from behind his shades.
I look up at him, surprised that I hadn’t recognized him.
“Oh hey!! You!” I smile, feeling a rush of affection and gratitude towards him – my bestie.
The grin struggles to break on my face, my lips set in a suppressed smile.
“What?” he asks.
“You look good today,” I say, meaning it, seeing the t-shirt and denim jeans compliment his tall, lean figure, and the shades lend attractiveness to his features.
He is silent, assessing my remark as compliment or sarcasm. He decides, unsurely...
“Thanks, I think,” he says.
“It’s over huh? One year...”
“Yeah...”
And we stand there staring at the building for a while.
“Come on, it’s almost time,” he says beckoning to me.
We walk together in a comfortable silence...
“There come the invigilator and her son,” he states.
“Son??”
“What? You think they are married? Like Demi Moore and that...”
“Ashton Kutcher!! Arrgh... you...” I wallop him with my bag.
We both burst into laughter...
We both burst into laughter...
*
And no one ever knew even at the end...that I carried my own hell with me... Maybe because I hide it well, even to myself... and it emerges when I am least aware...
