Ma face is glowing. Three bright rays of sun, squeezing through the thin cracks of the white blinds on my window, hit my cheek with full force. They wake me up before the shrill imitation of the antique alarm clock on my cell phone can wake me up.
I blink the light away and pull the covers over my face. Warm air from my nose fills my lungs. It’s too bright to go back to sleep. I don’t want to get up either. I did not sleep well. Dreamed badly. Sweat profusely – not only because of the rapidly increasing heat in this room in the morning.
I push the blanket off my face and use my eyes to trace the wavy shadows that form on the small, rounded bulges on my wall. My friend doesn’t move. Is he still asleep? Or just pretending to put off the day for as long as possible? Like me?
My friend doesn’t move. Is he still asleep? Or just pretending to put off the day for as long as possible? Like me?
I pull the covers aside and slide my feet onto the cool laminate. I feel dizzy Drained. Wrapped in a heavy coat that pulls me down with its weight. The background noise under my window penetrates my ears as if through dampening headphones. I don’t feel anything. My body is numb.
Just over an hour. Maybe everything will be back to normal in two hours.
My favorite black dress hangs lifeless on its hanger. A knee-length cotton dress, airy cut, long enough to cover me the few steps to the practice, wide enough not to restrict myself unnecessarily. I gather my clothes and head for the bathroom as if by magic.
My stomach is rumbling. A slight nausea spreads. Otherwise everything is as usual. Everything looks the same. There’s nothing to suggest I’ll be a murderer in an hour. Murderess. The word that I read in the forums yesterday over and over again hits my face with full force. The forums that I knew I shouldn’t go through because the flood of opinions of unknown, innocent people that the Internet spat pages at my feet rolled over me like a tsunami.
Everything looks the same. There’s nothing to suggest I’ll be a murderer in an hour. Murderess. The word hits my face with full force.
I stroll into the kitchen and pour cold tap water into a glass. There is a tablet in front of the toaster. A little white pill that looks little different from the one I should have taken three months ago. Had, had, bicycle chain. I tap the round object with my right middle finger and drag it in front of the glass.
There is a tablet in front of the toaster. A little white pill that looks little different from the one I should have taken three months ago. Had, had, bicycle chain.
Is that selfish? Is it selfish of me to want everything to be the same again? Is it wrong to choose myself? For my life? My goals, my dreams? If only I didn’t feel so damn lonely. Physically not one meter away from me, my friend lives psychologically in another world.
With a cool click, the pill lands on the light gray tiles. I fish them up from the ground and lean against the counter. The tremor in my arms spreads to my fingertips. Warm, salty drops slide over my cheeks. I let them drip on my dress in silence. It’s not the first time I’ve had to make a relevant decision. It’s only the first time it’s irreversible.
The pounding in my temples is increasing. Heart or head? Didn’t I say myself that I can feel something? A throbbing, a sensation emerging out of nowhere that is not rational because it cannot be, and certainly must not be?
Heart?
But is that what I want? A child? Now? In the middle of your training, with an uncertain future and a relationship that doesn’t go beyond “it’s complicated”? Love alone is not enough. Love alone does not provide for a child. I don’t have more to offer than that. Nothing of what I want for a child. What I have always wished for my child. I can’t even take care of myself, how am I supposed to take care of a child?
Head?
My life slips away, escapes between my fingers like sand through an hourglass. I don’t know who I am anymore. All I want is to be me again To be me again at last. My former self, my old life back. If only I wasn’t so terrified.
All I want is to be me again To be me again at last. My former self, my old life back. If only I wasn’t so terrified.
The strength drains from my limbs. I sink down on the kitchen floor and tilt my head back. My skull is buzzing. I can’t stand the pounding any more. The headache, the nausea, the weakness.
I put the tablet on my tongue, lift the glass and put it to my lips.
“Forgive me. You’re welcome.”
Then I take a long sip.
