A girl stared at her own figure in the mirror. Her pale face showed no smile, no expression. Her weary eyes looked empty. She felt so heavy yet so damn empty. A man stood behind her, running his fingers through her long hair whilst staring blankly at the girl. She then turned her head towards the man, looking deeply at his glazed eyes. He placed his palm on the girl’s cheek, gently caressing it with his thumb whilst his eyes locked to hers. They were drowning in her own thoughts, their own feelings.

After a long moment of silence, words finally came out from the man’s mouth.

“You ready?” he asked. The girl nodded.

She turned the music up as he turned the lights down low. They slowly reached the bed, and once again, looked at each other’s eyes. They felt their hearts beat faster than ever, but they remained calm. They were nervous, but they knew that this was what they wanted for so long. They knew they were both ready for this.

As their long, silvery, sharp knives stabbed on each other’s chest, they dragged their souls into oblivion, slowly released themselves from the mortal world. Before the girl completely disappeared, she caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes. The man then leaned down towards her face, looking at her eyes deeply. She smiled as she whispered, “welcome to my circo de muerte.“

They’re now gone.

She cant tell which one is better; to feel everything or to feel numb.

She was once a girl who always expressed her emotions, her feelings.

She was smiling or laughing when she was happy,

she was crying when she was sad,

she released the devil inside her when something annoyed her.

She smiles even though she knew that her smiling face is weird. She laughs even though the sound of her laughter is annoying--but some people used to love it anyway. She looks awful when she cries but she cries like a baby anyway--she's lucky enough that her mascara is waterproof. She knows that people hate it when she cannot control her anger, but she does not care. She wants to show people what she feels at the moment, so people can read her. She thinks that people will kindly understand her.

But no one gives any single fuck anyway.

She finally got it, that nobody could understand her. Nobody seemed to care about her feelings. Or maybe, they just didn't know how to understand her.

She finally understand that she cant control anything but herself. Even herself is sometimes out of her control. But she learned--or at least tried.

It's not like, "Aw she looks sad, maybe I should comfort her instead of ruin her day even though i really need to say something that probably could make her cry." Well, a few of people would be kind enough to wait for the right time to talk. But still, anyone could break her heart whenever the hell they want, even when she's having a hard time, they could just make it worse. Anyone could make her cry whenever the hell they want, even if she already cries a river before. Anyone could leave her, or simply ignore her, even when she needs them the most.

She turned off her emotions. She has no expressions. She is then being heartless. Not because she is unloved or anything. The people she loves taught her that maybe it's best not to feel anything, or at least, try to hide the feelings well. That is probably the best way to love someone. Even though it would be nice to have them feel what she feels, the truth is they will not understand her feelings. Everyone knows what sadness feels like, they just don't know how sad she is. She does not believe when someone says, "I know how you feel," or, "I also feel your sadness." Because they don't. They just feel guilty when she feels sad.

Then people tend to misinterpret her. People would like to assume that she is happy when the fact is, she sometimes chooses to laugh when she's sad. They also would say, "Are you not happy?" when she doesn't show a single smile on her birthday.

Aw, poor little shit.

Stop…

Please…

You will regret this!

I heard a soft, unfamiliar voice, calling my name. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Miss?” I opened my eyes and saw a woman dressed in white. I looked at her and stood up.

“This way, please,” she said as she walked me to a little office with a paper covered bed and a small desk. I smiled to her and said thank you.

A tall man with greying short hair and glasses over a hook nose greeted me. He began to ask me several questions. I told him that I had a terrible migraine last night. I also told him about the super painful episodic tension headaches that I had almost every morning for the past few weeks.

As a matter of protocol, the doctor took my blood pressure, and then he asked me another series of questions. The doctor concluded that the episodic tension headaches I suffered are caused by temporary stress, anxiety, sleep problems, and fatigue. I’m not surprised though. After he gave me his diagnosis, he told me to take some ibuprofen and see how I felt in the morning. Very typical.

I walked back to my place, went straight to my room, throw my bag on the floor, took off my black skinny jeans and tossed it on the floor. I lay down on my bed. God, I felt like shit.

I looked around, nothing has changed. A sketch of a girl with a long black hair that hung on my wall caught my eye. I drew it myself, a long time ago. I stared at the sketch, and it felt like I was staring at her in person. I saw her bitter smile and the angst–and sadness–that hidden beneath her weary eyes. Suddenly, I felt empty. I felt like something is missing, like there was a hole inside my chest. I felt hollow.

I missed her.

I missed her presence. And it tortured me.

“You will regret this!”

You were right. I do. I regret it.

—

I sat in front of my desk, turned my laptop on, and started to type.

“Old friend, we will get together again,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear, “soon.”

My tears fall freely as I post my writing on my blog.

Since you hide, since you steal, since you hate everything I feel;

Since you cheat, since you lie, since you dont wanna try things I wanna try;

Since you’ve been gone, my life has move along quite nicely, actually

--

It was 7 a.m., Friday morning. I woke up, took my phone, and turned off the alarm. I shook my head. God, my head hurt like hell and I felt kinda sick. Fucking hangover. I wish I could sleep for a few hours more, but I promised myself to get things done. Stuffs to do, stuffs to do.

I sat on the floor, lit my cigarette, and stared vacantly at the wall until someone knocked on my door. I put on my shorts, and opened the door. It was her, standing in front of my door, still wearing her pyjamas.

“Wow you look fucked up. You okay, mate?” She asked as she stared at me whilst shaking her head.

“I know. Hangover is a bitch,” I said.

“By the way, I’ll make breakfast. Do you want anything?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’m actually starving but I don’t know what to eat. Just give me anything, I don’t mind.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in 10 minutes,” she said as she walked down the stairs.

I decided to hop into the shower whilst waiting for her. I needed a nice, cold shower to ease my mind.

The smell of the peppermint soap felt so refreshing and uplifting, combined with a scent of evergreen oils–that came from the scented candles–made me feel like walking in the middle of balsam pine forest. Kind of hypnotising. I loved it. I also loved the tingling sensation on my skin. For a second I felt like the pressure in my life was all gone. Taking shower is probably the only nice thing I could do to myself.

I jumped out of the shower as I heard a knock on my door. I put on my black long sleeve chiffon top and my black jeans. I opened the door and she said the breakfast is ready. She asked me to eat the breakfast together in the living room, since my dorm room is literally a mess.

“Is it good?” She asked me as I ate the chicken soup that she cooked for me.

“Yeah. Thanks by the way,” I answered.

She stared at me for a few seconds, and then ate her meal. She did it over and over again, so I asked her, “What’s wrong with you, mate?”

“No, what is wrong with YOU?” She replied.

“What? Nothing is-”

“Ha, ‘nothing is wrong’, my ass,” she rolled her eyes, “look, I know it’s been a tough week but you need to stop living like this. I mean, come on, man, you’re not being yourself. You locked yourself in your room, only talk to me when I ask you to have breakfast or dinner together, drinking in your room every night, hangover every morning, and smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. This isn’t you,” she said.

“I know you’re being concern but this is just the way I handle things, you know,” I said as I lit a cigarette.

She looked at me in disgust.

“I am perfectly okay. It’s just…uh, I am having a hard time. I needed time to be alone and do whatever the hell that can make me feel better,” I took a puff of my cigarette.

“Do you feel better? Do you think you will be able to handle things if you keep doing this? I’m telling you, you’re a coward. You are not handling things, you just smoke a lot and get drunk to forget all of your problems and pretend that you are okay when you are completely not okay. You locked yourself in your room, hiding from the world!” she yelled at me. I hate it when she does that.

“Whatevs, I’m tired of arguing. Gotta go in an hour, I’ve got stuffs to do, so stop ruining my day and mind your own business, ’kay?” I said. I walked back to my room to avoid her irritating speech.

“Ha. You just act like you’re too cool to care but you cannot fool me. I know deep inside you’re just a weak coward who couldn’t face your own problems,” she added as she followed me to my room. I am so done with her.

“You better watch your fucking mouth,” I warned her.

“I’m just saying the truth. You are nothing but a coward trying to look tough,” she said and took a sip of her coffee, “you’re just being insecure, that’s why you need me to help you face your problems,” she added.

“I don’t need you, you were never there whenever I need help! You never give a shit about me anyway, so, fuck off!” I yelled. I felt the heat all over my face, my hands were cold….and shaking.

“And now you’re shaking,” she grinned, “you’re scared, aren’t you?”

I felt sick, my head hurt, and my heart was beating really fast. But she did not stop talking, “you know what, your anxiety will eat you alive.” She laughed.

“FUCKING STOP IT ALREADY!” I screamed. My knees were so weak, I fell on my knees, gasped for air, I could hardly breathe.

“I will not stop until you realise that this isn’t right,” she said whilst looking at me.

“Dont you fucking dare to tell me what to do,”

“At least try to stop me then,” she grinned devilishly. I hate her. I fucking hate her. I managed myself to stand up, slowly walked toward her.

“Wait what are you do-” without letting her finish her sentence, I wrapped my hand around her neck.

“I’m…ju…st…helping..y..ou,” she gasped for air,”y..ou will reg..ret th..this, you..need..me to..k..keep y..your mind..off..t..the edge,” I smiled. I suddenly felt a strange power came from inside of me, “s..top…p…pl..plea-“she begged. So I stopped. But I guess it was too late.

“There you are,” I smiled. I saw her figure turned into white smokes and slowly disappeared.

—–

I heard a knock on my door. My friend who lived next to my room was standing in front of the door. He looked at me confusedly.

“Hey, um, the door is opened and I heard your voice so I just came here. Who were you talking to, by the way?” He asked.

“Oh I was just talking with a friend,” I answered. He looked around my room, there were nobody other than me and him.

“Uh..on the phone,” I added.

“Ah I see. So I came here to return this to you,” he said as he took a book from his bag.

“Oh alright, just put it there, mate,” I said, pointing at my desk.

“Thanks for lending me that book. Uh, are you okay though? You look a bit pale,” he asked.

“Do I? Ah it’s probably because I have lack of sleep for the past few days. But I’m okay though, thanks for asking,” I said.

“Alright then. I’ll go back to my room,” he said as he walked out of my room and closed the door.

I put on my make up, straightened my hair, and walked out of my room, going to God-knows-where.

To see you when I wake up is a gift I didn’t think could be real

To know that you feel the same as I do is a three-fold utopian dream

You do something to me that I can’t explain

So would I be out of line, if I said I miss you

–

She shot up straight in bed, covered in sweat, and was breathing heavily. She looked around and realised that she was in her room. Another nightmare. She moaned and pulled the duvet up over her head, trying to go back to sleep. Her body was tired and her mind was overloaded with misery. She felt like a steaming pile of crap. She could not stop thinking about what had happened these past few days, forbidding her to go back to sleep.

With a mental sigh, she forced herself to get off her bed. She wasn’t sure if she could physically move, though. She had no desire to do anything other than find the easiest way to end her life, to end the pain. The pain in her chest was excruciating; it hurt like a deep cut. Her mind couldn’t function properly; it went either sprinted with thoughts or stopped all together. She imagined the ultimate peace death could bring. But she realised that she was too wimpy to kill herself, so she continued on with her bitter life. Another day of sorrow.

“I have to leave this country tomorrow.”

She never thought that one sentence could break her into pieces. The devastation set in right after she heard that from him. She felt hollow, lost, disoriented, and totally depressed. She felt like there was a hole in her chest. She drowned in her eternal tears of sorrow. All the things that she did reminded her of him. He was one of the best things that ever happened in her life.

She recalled the memories that they had together, all the beautiful things, the arguments, the joy, the tears, the laughter; everything. She knew that she was being over-emotional, knowing they had only known each other for such a short time. She didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did. She didn’t mean to fall in love, but she did anyway, though she didn’t expect him to love her back. She knew that she was just another girl in the crowd.

She did not blame him for not seeing her—she was not meant to be seen. She didn’t blame anyone for not being able to feel what she felt, for not being her; because who would choose to be a broken woman so full of flaws.

It was enough for her to have him, even for a few moments, to herself, where his mind and body were hers and hers alone. It was enough to make her smile. She liked him, a lot more than she originally planned. When he told her that he had to leave, that was when she realised that she fell for him already. She fell in love but she wasn’t ready to get hurt. It destroyed her, but she didn’t regret it. But love has teeth which bite and the wounds never heal.

She was afraid to fall in love again–she didn’t think she would be able to love again. So she relegated herself to shadows, where she could be alone, unseen, and nobody would be able to hurt her.

—

Somehow I often remember what I’d rather forget. No, wait, I don’t want to forget it. I don’t want to forget the memories. I don’t want to forget you. You are one of the best things that ever happened to me. You made me happy, you brought back the smile to my face—the smile that has been gone so many clock ticks ago. You made me feel…loved. And it hurts, knowing that I will never be able to feel that again.

I miss you, Kiwi.