500 Words

,,You’re disaster,” something once says. ,,Something wrong. Aren’t you?”
And she has no idea how to answer that, is only rendered speechless as she slowly steps around, trail leaving behind something alike to naught.
,,Why won’t you answer?”, it pushes and she steps back, eyes blank and mouth empty. She’s forgotten how to form words.
Then a laugh. An utterly despicable thing that makes her gut curl and chest tightens. She gasps.
,,But how could I expect that of you. You are, after all-“
,,So wrong.”


9. Day Eight

And she never saw them coming. And maybe it’s because she’s only staring ahead, at what’s not in front of her, what’s lacking and none existing, but it isn’t the point. The point is that they somehow come crashing into her life, speed at 200 kilometers per minute, and yet she’s the one left breathless, having no clue at all where to look at now – because whilst her mind and sickness yells at her to stare forward, her heart is begging her to turn, to blink or maybe just glance in the way of the one
That somehow manages to steal her broken heart and turn it into something that’s not quite as broken.


But falling in love when being in her state spells disaster. And there are days, where she sees them at the opening or at the port, and maybe they don’t see her or maybe they just downright don’t want to -stopstopstopstopstop- but again, not the point, because she’s left lost when they don’t react to her soft call or meek wave of hands.
It’s nothing alike to easy, but they know and she sees, and her breath hurts so many times that it almost feels too wrong to be true, but still
It feels quite right to do it.


And she doesn’t know how to tell them all of this. Not that she plans to – stripping herself bare like that is something she can’t even dream of. It’s as far for her as the sky is, which is quite far, because she is a small one. But she’s not the type to look down, so she doesn’t.
Even if it means stumbling head-first down towards the ground, arms bound behind her and leaving her with no chance of catching herself.


Her breath feels wrong again – and she tries to stay away, tries to bite it back and force the air through her lungs, but she’s completely weak to the pull, and so her whispers towards the filled paper starts, pen creating new words over existing ones, body hurting and mind crying.
But her eyes stay dry and empty, everything but everything in them, only carrying something


,,Are you going to be okay?”, she reads out loud, a random sentences that catches her eyes, and she manages to feel the question burn inside of her, despite not being redirected at her.
She lifts up her fingers and counts slowly.
,,Twenty-one. Twenty-one days, since my mind dissolved and my heart disappeared. Twenty-one days since I woke up and told my mother I couldn’t do it anymore. Twenty-one days since my mother and brother left home, going to work and school and left me at home, a place where thoughts and feelings were free to attack me as they wished. Twenty-one days since I told my mom I stopped looking for cars when I was walking over the road.”
She goes outside and sits down in the grass, the wind tickling around her.
,,Was that an answer?”, and she smiles sadly and shakes her head.
,,No. I want to answer that. But I really cannot. Because as much as I want to believe I will be okay, and as much as I know that I have so many hours, months, years back to live and breathe in, I’m getting so incredibly scared that most of them will be spend in this. Because so much of my very short life already has.”
She turns and shudders.
,,And can there really be anything else then?”

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