Has anyone ever made you feel worthless?
Like you may as well just fucking crawl into a cold, dark cave and die becauase noone could ever even entertain the thought of loving you?
Have they lied to your face, since the truth is too cutting? ‘You’re ugly, you’re shit, you’re boring, you’re my last resort.’
It’s happened to me.
Again.
Hi.
This is just a thought.
Nothing more,
I promise.
Life is kind of a packet of balloons. You work for ages and ages, puffing one up. Like, really slowly and steadily. Sometimes you get really tired, but you keep going and going and then…
BAM.
It pops in your face. You wanna cry cos you’re pissed. You hate it when stuff fucking pops in your face. You hate dumb surprises (you are easily startled). It’s potentially day-ruiner material. But you don’t cry, because it’s just blurted a whole bunch of dainty shiny glittery confetti all over you that kinda mysteriously seemed to come out of nowhere.
You keep the dainty shiny glittery confetti cause’ it reminds you that better days are ahead. Yet you’re scared that a gust of wind is going to whip through the window and take the confetti away from you. You’re really scared. You need the window open for air circulation, but you worked hard for this confetti.
You resign to the fact that, well, if the confetti chooses the wind over you, then, what can you do other than blow some more balloons, and hope that if you blow up enough with your helium breath, maybe you’ll be whisked away into the sky too.
This is an old one.
I am swimming, scuba diving, underwater. Classmates and friends are here too, and a teacher. Some of us stray from the teacher, and play and explore a shipwreck we discover. Somehow I keep swimming, and find myself lost. I come to an underwater chapel. It is empty. It is eerie. I am not sure whether it is safe. I pass through more halls. I have a sudden feeling of being not just watched, but chased. I swim faster and faster, until I find land. An air pocket awaits. I leap up, running down a small stone hall. I reach an empty room, I am still chased. It gains. The room is enormous, warehouse like. High ceilings, but filled with the strangest of things. Three metre high orange and yellow fat, hollow rotating cylinders, only each with a 1/4 of the pie missing. They rotate ever so slowly. They fill the vast space in an orderly, grid-like fashion. I don’t have much time. I skid past a few of them, and hide inside of of the cylinders. I am safe. Only, I am not safe. The cylinder rotates at a snail’s pace. Tension builds. I am exposed. I see the zooming arrowhead, perched on it’s fast and tiny wheels. It stares as me, with its faceless form.
I am dead.
I’m with my mum and we’re walking along someplace or rather. It could be the Terrace, who knows. We’re waiting by an intersection, elevated, looking at the cars zipping by on the road underneath us. The roads twist and weave around oneanother. We just wait. It’s nice with her, always peace. There’s never a need to speak, and sometimes there’s never a need to stop.
A white car is turning right, like it should be, only it’s not. The car zooms ahead, confident. You can’t go ahead.
There is no braking, no recognition of fault. The car passes the edge and plummets to the ground. Three seconds later we hear the crash on the road below. We’re crying. There isn’t a barrier. Scared we’ll fall too. We don’t look, until we do look. The car’s smashed, everything is. They all must be dead.
A body is picked up and put it in the bin by the footpath. Later in the day we pass it. Inside we can’t see anything.
Why didn’t they stop? My worst fear coming true. We talked about it for the rest of the day. I told mum how much I loved her. I felt like I could have lost her, even though it wasn’t her in the car. We check that my sister is safe. My sister is safe.
My mind is left with an animated GIF of the car failing to fly. The boom and screech of contact, after what feels like a lifetime.