This one is inspired by Victoria Schwab’s Monsters of Verity series. Like Kate, I have found the theory of infinite parallels to be somewhat comforting– that somewhere I made a different path for myself. If you are strange, or mad or monstrous and if you feel lost inside yourself, then this book series is for you. It gave me a remedy when I needed one.
Where are you? I asked myself as I hugged my knees and continued rocking myself in the darkness of my room. Crying. I despise crying. I found it weak to present such a vulnerable state even to those who knew me.
“At a countryside where I can watch everything unfold like a film without being a character in any of it. With books and silence to keep me company. I am not tired at last.”
Where are you? I asked myself as I saw them all leaving, one by one, taking their goodbyes with them. I felt them gave up like the final strike of a blunt blade on a string– eventually it breaks. They all do.
“In a cottage found in an island at the middle of the ocean. I can hear the waves receding and crashing, muting the turmoil in my soul. I look up at the star-laden sky above and find the patches of darkness in between them to be a comfort. Simplicity and contentment. Here no one finds me. Here no one leaves.”
Where are you? I asked myself as I failed again. I feel pathetic to desire someone else’s approval. I feel like a hypocrite telling others I don’t have to. I can feel anger and disappointment swelling inside me. Scream, it says. Tell others how you hate yourself, it says. And don’t forget to tell them you hate them for forcing you to. I closed my eyes. Where are you? Where are you?
” In a foreign land, far, so far from where you are. I am in my own office and as I look outside, I see merchants and customers trying to bargain and mothers tagging along their children and couples having a fight as well as couples taking pictures of each other. I see life passing each minute. I hear the clinking of glass downstairs, hear the merriment, hear the violin even with the chaos of the street. I feel alive. I feel inspired to write a book. A happy one. I am a writer like what I wanted. Free to create a world of my own finally.”
And where are you now? I asked as I write this. I feel the emptiness inside me. I feel everything then nothing. It’s a cycle I can’t seem to get out from.
“Here. ” I sighed. ” Unknown to many and to myself, yes. But here, where I can pour my heart out, where I pretend that it is okay to be hurt and be human. Here, where I am not alone yet still lonely. Because I made this human choice to live and care despite feeling like a monster. Not yet happy but trying to be. Hoping to be. “
“Still here. Just here.” I whispered.