My diary.

4. Passcode: glitter

Hey Avy,
Passcode: glitter
I know. No need to remind me that I've neglected you this past days. I was too tired to do anything. I spent all day everyday for the past week in bed. Staring at nothing and everything. Writing was too much for me. Sitting was near impossible even. Why?

I went for physiotherapy last Saturday. I hate those sessions. They tire me out so. All for nothing. Nothing can be done for me. Only a miracle could heal me. And I do not believe in those anymore.

Today being a Saturday, my father asked me so nicely to go to church. Note the sarcasm. Church youth go to clean on Saturdays. I would never set foot there if I had a say in it. But dad insisted I should. For not going since last week. And I did.

It was not so bad. Only Janet managed to pour dirty water all of me. It was an accident. A planned accident. I helped dust the seats. Somehow they kept getting dirty. Again and again. The water I was using ended up all over the floor. I spent close to an hour drying it up.

Purity appeared quite cheerful too. She wished me so nicely a safe journey home. I pulled up one of my famous smiles. And wished her the same.

But there was nothing safe about mine. A string was tied across the path. To two roadside trees. I never saw it. Until my rushing wheelchair caught on it. And toppled over.

The path is rocky. My knees and elbows are badly scraped. My palms only just stopped bleeding. I spent over an hour trying to pick myself up. Mostly because I was crying all the way. And my hurting arms did not help either.

I can't feel the wounds on my legs. But my arms are not as lucky. Or unlucky. Its all how you choose to see it.

Dad isn't here. He won't be until way past midnight. He is the nurse on duty at the clinic. Am all alone in the house. Funny, I prefer it this way.

Today, I do not feel anything. No anger. No pain. No sadness. No loneliness. No fear. Nothing. Am empty. Like a clean slate. My mind is as blank. This words. This writing. I don't know how am doing it. I can't feel myself think.

I tried to fall asleep. I counted sheep. I kept losing track at eight. I sang to myself. I forgot the lyrics. I told myself a story. All characters died in the second line. I watched the dark. It kept swirling around.

I tried to make happy stories. The first one ended with a fire. The second one ended with gunshots. The shots were so loud. I had to cover my ears. I stopped when the tenth ended with a mass slaughter.

Avy, do you think my mind is twisted? I hope you do not. You're all I have and you can't think that way too. I try. All the time. To be normal. But I am not. I am broken. I am shattered. I am unsavable.

Still, I need a friend. You're that friend. Don't let me go.(whispers)Please don't.

Next passcode:

Butterfly.

                                     Regards,
                                     Mill.