reverent

seven - a word of advice

Lately, nightmares have been plaguing my sleep. They start off normal, but by the end of it, I would be drenched in blood -- blood that is not my own. Though I don't specifically see myself killing anyone in my dreams, the signs are all there. It points to me. That the blood that is spilt is because of me. That I am the root of the problem.

Days like these, where I'm not on speaking terms with Kayo and routinely getting nightmares, is when I find myself missing mom the most. I wonder if she can see me from the afterlife, or if she even misses or remembers me at all in return. Is she proud of me in any way?

I certainly don't think so.

She died in disappointment -- died because her own daughter looked down on her for a helpless reason. She will only continue to stew in shame to see that I am living this way, caught in the webs of Kayo. Kayo, the boy she used to hate so much. Kayo, the child who was said to be a bad influence on me. Kayo, the one I love. Nothing I'm doing in my life is impressive or worthy; rather, it is a life where my years are rotting away. It sounds bad... but to me, I can't bring myself to care anymore.

It's been two weeks now. Two weeks since the last time I saw Kayo in the restaurant. He doesn't try to seek me out, to beg, to plead, to apologize. The silence is stifling. I should be happy about it, that I have the space and time from him to try and remove these atrocious feelings, but I'm not. In every waking moment, there is a deep yearning within me. It wants to track the male down and give up my pride -- to scurry back to him like some disgusting rodent towards trash. It wants him, badly.

In addition, it hurts. It hurts that he does not give me a second thought, that he can just put me in the back burner. Does he not care about me enough to give me the bare minimum? Does he know what he did wrong? What is our ten years of friendship even worth then?

I feel pathetic. It makes me hate myself even more.

In the late evening, the library gets dark and quaint. Students are out for the day, leaving the studious to their own devices. Because today is Friday, there are less than usual. The other tables around me are empty, with the closest student being on the far side of the room. Darkness looms through the windows, so the only source of light is coming from the lamps that are set at each section. A lamp is lit in front of me, creating shadows from nearby nook and crannies. The monstrous beings linger and watch as I struggle through my work.

Schoolwork is despicable. I hate it so much. It reminds me that the reason I enrolled for university in the first place was for Kayo. Not wishing to be left behind, I gave into the pressure and chose the same school. It's a good thing the acceptance rate to this one is pretty high, or else I wouldn't have gotten in.

Ink weeps from my pen, dousing the notebook in black. Each letter is crooked and messy, scrawled and annoyed. The impatience is slowly showing. It's another good thing I'm aiming to pass and not an A. It's too late for that now, to have a successful future like that.

If mom was here, she would definitely push me to become a doctor.

In the corner of my eye, I sense a presence within the shadows that lurk in the corners. "Who's there?" No response. Glancing at my surroundings, I notice with a startle that the other students are gone. When did they leave? Is it getting too late already? My palms grow clammy with nerves, and I slowly stand up from my seat. Is it worth checking out these suspicions? Or should I leave?

Before paranoia gets the best of me, I head over to the towering bookshelves. It's quiet and empty, so why does it feel like I'm being watched? The gaps between the shelves leaves me vulnerable, for eyes to see and arms to latch. The color scheme makes it look ominous too, drowning in brown and monotone. Is it so hard for them to provide more light in this huge room?