Mirrors

Drifting

Chapter Nine:

Drifting

Has it been hours, days, weeks, months, or years since the last time I breathed the fresh, cultivated air of the real world? I laid down horizontally, floating parallel to the surface. I was a mermaid that waited for the day in which I will walk on land to enjoy the afternoon sun with a nice cup of coffee. Like any other mermaid out there—if any—it was impossible to get to shore. The land meant I’d be alive. The land meant reality. It meant that my physical body would be functioning well enough to wake up. But I wouldn’t wake up; I knew that for sure.

My belongings floated around me, but I tried my best not to touch any of them. All they brought was suffering. And I needed a break from that. Why would I have to go through every one of them, I told myself. Nothing’s going to change. My past wouldn’t change, neither the person I became nor the predicaments I brought myself into. But why did I want to search for more. Behind those objects hid a certain message that I wasn’t getting. The more I peered into their stories, the more I couldn’t forgive myself. That wasn’t what I called therapeutic. Was I doing something wrong? Was this how Judgement Day worked? It didn’t play a cinematic movie of the life I had left, which was what I had expected years before my death. And where was this God that everyone kept bugging me about? There is no God, I thought. I knew all along.

Avoid or continue—that was my question. There had to be something I wasn’t getting.

It seemed that my environment was trying its best to keep me going. I took the time to have an  intermission to stay away from my past. Through it, I had noticed myself feeling more and more exhausted. I craved for those memories; they were my nutrition. Preventing myself from peeking at my past caused me great starvation. This fasting of mine wasn’t healthy.

My body began to transform. My ribs protruded out at an insane amount of visibility. My stomach had wasted away. My eyes began to hurt as well, feeling drier everyday. My hair began to lose its luster; I was shedding balls of them. There was no cushion left for my teeth; my shrunken cheek made me look ghastly. When the mirror appeared once more, I saw myself in it and couldn’t recognize the person that gazed at me. She had solemn eyes—too tired to look away. Malnutrition started to carve every muscle left in me. That girl in the mirror couldn’t be me.

This maddening hunger of mine stuck close to me like a shadow. I had to eat. I had to watch my life again. If somehow looking through my life could save me from this grave, I would take any chance I had. Anywhere is better than here, I told myself.

Feeling famished wasn’t the only problem. My mind craved for a reminder of the real world. I sometimes felt it slipping away, only to find myself sinking lower and lower underwater. I heard voices calling out for me, whether they were someone I knew previously or ones that I had never heard before. They chanted, jeered and consoled me. Each voice had its own personality. Each voice tried to control me. But they couldn’t; at least not yet. Some screamed horridly while I slept in peace. Some sang a lullaby to keep me comforted. Nice or not, I wanted them to hurry off. If I couldn’t see them, they best left me alone. But how could I tell off an invisible foe?

Apparently, I wasn’t the only creature in this habitat. Two new visitors swam in circles, surrounding me. Their large tails swung with a gentle stroke, confident with what they knew they’d get. Two large Great Whites waited patiently to make a meal out of me. Their mouths hung open, showing off their rows of teeth. My new assailants terrified me. Oh how I hated the ocean.

Drifting about in this world wasn’t an option anymore; I had to leave this Godforsaken place.