Marie

Another silent ride. Not even the radio dared to break the silence.

He drove, and I stared at the screen of my phone, pretending to be busy reading something but I was actually waiting for him to say something.

Are you ashamed of me?

Someone lit up a firecracker just now, and light up the moonless sky briefly. I am watching this from the window of my bedroom, a shut world miles away from outside. There is no sound from the firecracker, but the trail of light it left as it streaked across the night seems to be burned into my retina.

I am sorry, I never meant to be like this.

I have spoiled myself lately, breaking a few rules I set for myself, just for the fun of it. Went out to do some activities that I refrained to do because they would remind me of the past. Talking to people that I avoided for months in fear that I would cling on them too much. Disorganizing my tidy desk just because I want to see if I can make a mess out of clean things. Digging up old books and flipped through the pages to see my scribbles and notes.

Everything that I used to hold dear, now reduced to things that I want to replace. Our desire is never fully sated, and I am a servant to it.  All I can do is to keep it at bay, and never withdraw more money than needed from my account.

Seventy nights ago, I thought everything has ended. I was wrong. In that time, when I wanted to give up, a friend kindly offered help.

"By being kind to others, you become much kinder to yourself."

I had it all, and I couldn't let go. My grip tightened, and I ended up opening a crack that cannot be repaired. And so it all began. My story ended, and the other story replaced it.

Waiting for a miracle is not a healthy way to heal myself. I am still feeling betrayed, but letting go of this negative feeling is crucial for me to change. I wanted to focus on hating, because to red hot anger distracts me from feeling hurt all over again. I wanted revenge, but after I achieve that, what would be left of me?

The city at night. Streets are still wriggling with people. All around me is the smell of cigarettes and damp early dawn air. I wish that I am talking to someone right now, but one thing I know is, it won't be you. I want to escape your phantom, thus why I am going to places that I don't regularly go at times I rarely go out in.

Rewind and re-live the past. Moving forward, and agonize over the mistakes. Focus on the present and fail to learn from the past and mistakes.

Marie, they shouted, why are you still here. No, I am not Marie. I am still myself, not this Marie you think I am.

Of course, they are not talking to me. I know that.

Wanting to head back home, I want to leave a few things I carry right now. I still don't know why you can be this strong? Detaching things that you have for so long, it takes a great determination to do so. Moreover, this feeling of mine has been there for years, it won't be easy to just drop it.

The river by the road. I can see the reflection of the yellow neon streetlights on the surface. If I look closely into it, can I see myself there?

Why am I put here? I still don't know. They say, I will find my own purpose here, but not the one I think I ought to do. Why? Can't I decide what I want to do? Can't I trust my own thoughts now that others are trying to shove theirs into my own brain?

I am not a computer. My mind is my own, and I don't want to be a copy of others. I want to be myself, and be able to fade away whenever I want. I do not wish to remain in the open for too long, therefore now I am walking away from the light.

I am going into the dark, and smell the damp earth as I step onto the wet soil.