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Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock

Why am I here? Why am I staring hopelessly and blankly at this very screen right now? What am I doing?

It’s a cold night, tonight. The wind is stronger than it has been for the last few days. I’m freezing, but I don’t want to put on any extra clothes. I don’t know why. Maybe I’ve been too fond of coldness to even try to get warm, or maybe I was just secretly hoping I’d get frozen somehow. The latter is just a hopeful thinking, I guess. An old song was playing, and I can’t help but get all nostalgic. About my past, about what’s happening to me right now, about my future. Funny thing though, every single thing I tried to remember was a blur. I thought the past should always be as clear as crystal— guess I was wrong.

People always say that if you try to take away a writer from their typewriter, all that’s left is the sickness that made them type in the first place. Hah. But what if the writer didn’t have any sickness to start with? What if he’s just empty, and desperately trying to feel by tangling pretty words and grammar rules sentence after sentence? What happens when you take him away? Would they be just like they were before? Or would they feel even emptier? How do you measure emptiness anyway?

My phone rang all of a sudden. My mum.

“Yes, mum?”
“How are you? What are you doing right now?”
“Ah, I’m fine. I’m doing nothing.”
“It’s really late, don’t you have class tomorrow?”
“I do. I will sleep soon, don’t worry.”

Huh, what sleep. I haven’t slept in nearly 3 days. I haven’t been doing anything else as well. I tell myself that this is normal, that I would return to my daily schedule once I’m done collecting my thoughts. What a good liar I am, even to my own self. What thoughts? I can’t even find a single word to tell everyone how I feel, even though I’ve been sitting in front of this netbook for days. And I call myself a writer, hah. What a joke. Writers have worthy things to say, writers have beautiful imaginations to share. I’m just an empty soul who tries to cope with sanity using words.

“Take care of yourself there, will you? I can’t watch you 24/7 anymore, dear.” my mum said to me.

“I know,” I said.
“I will hang up now, I love you.”
“I love you too.”

Click. 

Silence, again. So comforting, yet nerve-wracking. So simple, so quiet, yet it seems like it’s made from gigantic amount of noise. I took a look at the clock. It’s midnight already. I sighed, and turned back to my netbook, trying to find a keyword that will let out all the vomit within my heart. Trying to untangle the mess within my head. Another long night, this will be. A freezing, long night. I wish I’d really get frozen this time.

Tick
 

Tock
 

Tick
 

Tock 

3 weeks ago with 2 notes 2 notes
tagged as: short story.