I closed my eyes.

The looming darkness that has been sitting at the corner of the room finally consumed me. I felt the whole world dance with all melancholy as my heart spin to the melody of the saddest songs. In pitch black there was only the blinding sensation of myself falling over an infinite abyss. Suddenly the bright city lights vanished from the distance and the view from the rooftop seemed so small. But the smell of faint laughter and alcohol lingered in that lonely December air.

I tried my hardest to wake up. Lights flashed through the small opening between my eyelids. I have never felt so blinded in my entire life. I heard their hushed voices growing into indistinct murmurs as the drinking glass, half full of hate and agony, marched its way to me again. I drank from the glass with every hope of finally becoming strong. The wrath of alcohol unleashed itself inside my frail sunken body like a hungry savage beast. But with every finished glass thumped upon the smooth wooden table, I felt dying more and more.

Someone called my name. I wondered what it felt like to have my name under their silly playful tongues; the way they speak of it like it was always a part of their language. But it didn’t matter because on that very night I own the universe, although it didn’t take too long before I finally realized that the universe I was thinking of existed only in my head. I was spinning in the world of dreams—a crowned queen of the afterlife—but at the same time I was nailed in this God-forsaken reality where everything is hateful. I laughed at the thought of being drunk and being conscious both at the same time. I didn’t want to rationalize things. I didn’t want to think. I’ve had enough of philosophy for so long. All I ever wanted was to let go, to just let go and it was in the midst of that grave intoxication that someone asked me a question.

I closed my eyes.

The answer was far more difficult than the question which required it. With all the weight of these unspoken emotions—all these memories, all these hate—I closed my eyes and bled. I spoke with painful exactitude how badly damaged I was since I first saw you and how from that moment on I was never able to put myself back together. I spoke of words I never imagined I was capable of speaking, words I kept within me for such a very long time. I couldn’t remember any of those words now. I couldn’t remember myself speaking to you at all. The only thing that remains in my memory now is the excruciating feeling of letting these words out. I remember that as I spoke of these words, tears began falling down like the pitter-patter of the rain. I remember you holding me, telling me it’s okay, it’s okay. I remember the first time we went out drinking together and how you whispered in my ear that everything will be okay and how I held on tightly to your words without asking.

But now as I remember last night, in the drinking table, in the midst of empty bottles and cigarette ashes, I remember how for the past one year I have been trying my hardest to forget about you. I remember a part of myself that haven’t given up yet in the attempt of finally moving on, a part of me that is still alive, still beautiful, still strong, a part that’s still fighting after you have left me without a clue. I tell myself every night that if it still hurts even after a day of struggling there’s still another chance for me to move on in the morning. The pain may be as stubborn as the hangover brought about by the drinking round last night but even then I know that these shall all pass. There is misery in knowing that you will never be mine. But at least I tried. At the very least, I tried.

When I opened my eyes again I was already in a different room. The rooftop had vanished together with the faint laughter and the intoxicating smell of alcohol. There was silence in every nook and cranny of my consciousness. I still had on me my pink long-sleeved shirt and my faded jeans. They were stained with the awful memory of the things that happened last night.

It was 5 in the morning and I had a few good hours of sleep but even then my head was heavy with too much slumber. I went to the kitchen sink to brush my teeth, to erase the smell of last night’s intoxication, to bring myself back to sanity again. As I stood in front of the kitchen window I felt mystified by the eerie silence of a world full of sleep. I remembered how we laughed in the stillness of the evening and how their voices broke into little fragments in my ear. I remembered the sound of the glasses spinning in the heat of my delirium. I remembered the words spoken carelessly, casually, as if words can not kill. I remembered the taste of honesty between my lips and how such honesty turned me into some kind of a doll. A stupid doll.

The morning skies were already changing its colors when I went back to bed. The world was still spinning in endless circles as I placed my dreamy head upon the pillow. I felt a sense of weightlessness wash over me and for a moment I felt as if there was no gravity. The melancholy that consumed my fragile heart melted into a bittersweet lullaby that rocked me to a deep deep sleep.

Hush, little girl. You will drown in such a dream.


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