Constellations Of A Dreamer

1

Once again my mind was mangled with the thoughts of hostility and bitterness. The repressive atmosphere in my own slumber was intolerable and I felt suffocated by the immense weights piled on top of my chest, making me heave and struggle for air. I used to think that my life was as simple as it gets and that I have had the first-hand experience of being forgotten, angry, and upset. I should note, sometimes I feel less than human, I only say this because I feel as though I lack emotion. Within me there is a flaw, a void, a black hole, a place where my emotions have run away and hid. It's possible they were scared of revealing themselves in case it hurts others... but thinking about others is not in my primary nature at the moment, don't think of me as selfish and narcissistic, I'm only saying this because thinking about the feelings of others and what you have caused onto them in the deepness of your mind will waft you into over thinking, and over thinking will cause stress, and stress may cause depression, and depression causes... well, I'm sure we can think of as many possible outcomes.

I'll note one though. I was in my university lecture, boring per usual, the light sense of anguish and hate whenever I sat in that lesson could literally drive me insane. As I was covertly reading from a newspaper while the professor spoke an article caught my eyes. A girl had killed herself due to the burden of being bullied and not being able to cope with depression, with a slight empathetic sigh I folded the newspaper and wished to distance myself from those sad thoughts at once.

For a long time a feeling of dread had resided in me, what attracted that feeling to latch on to me when there are more than a billion people on this earth?, and it is I, who was forged out of life's sadness and left to survive in a world that could not care less about me or who I am.

I sat on my desk which I imagined to be a surface full of colour and walls full of paper, but hereby I shall tell the truth, my desk was a mouldy grey colour, or maybe the same colour of the sky when the thunder and rain make their entrance, it was derelict with a pile of paper and a pot of pens, the pens finally a symbol of colour, but they were bland and unsaturated. Looking around my room, it was as though my eyes were layered with a transparent grey, everything was lifeless and I couldn't seem to get out of a hazy feeling that I was potentially suffering, from many different things all at once.

'Samara! -Samara! Open the damn door would you!, I've been standing in the passageway for ages, can't you hear a word I'm saying?!' The robust sounds of banging and screeching woke me up from my out of mind experience, I was zoned out, but as I heard the banging and the shouting multiply I didn't want to move, and so desperately wanted to stay seated on this comfortable black chair and block out the sounds that tormented my life.
With a sigh I lifted myself off the chair and opened the door, in front of me stood a red faced girl, who held a black bag, she looked at me with such hatred I thought she could kill me this instant, her eyes were watery and I knew she could spit out a few more harsh words towards me, turning around quickly I made my way to my bed, wrapping myself securely as though my duvet were a shield from all the weapons that beckoned to attack me.

My ex-roommate stormed into my room, opened the drawer and pulled out a bundle of clothes, she didn't even look at me as she stormed out of the room again slamming the door behind her, but I'm pretty sure I heard her mutter the word 'freak' before she left.

My ex-roommate, Katie, was like my best friend once upon a time, a figure of comfort and joy, she left me when she realised there was something wrong with me, maybe it was because I used to iron my clothes twice before hanging it up, or the way I would pace around my room in circles, or even the way I gazed out of the widow for hours before realising she had even been talking to me. Whatever it was, she seemed completely creeped out by who I truly was, she managed to see through me and see me for the monster I am, just as I always see when standing in front of the mirror and transfixing my eyes on the reflection in front of me, it wasn't scary to me, it was satisfying to know that I was someone who acknowledged the fact that I was different, different in the way I thought, different in the way I looked at the world. I am not a gullible person, and see the world with my very own perspective as though I'm wearing some sort of invisible spyglass that makes me realise the world for what it truly is and people for who they truly are.