My problem started when my parents believed I
had a problem.
Most of my nightmares are daddies creation.
What’s a nightmare, anyway?
Yeah, I stand in front of a bathtub and as I
undress, my skin starts to come off.
It could be an issue.
But the problem is that I’m the only one who
knows there’s nothing wrong with me.
Ah, yesterday was a time. Yesterday was golden
age.
When I was just a kid, the only thing that could make me feel exhausted was running.
Now I get tired of life itself.
June is what they call me.
In a way I guess it suits me.
I’ve always been like that month. Not because
of the heat, but because of the damp air.
June suits me.
And if I ever become a housewife, I’d be an
excellent June.
Though I’ll never be a fucking housewife.
Yesterday was a golden age.
But yesterday has to be long gone to be
considered ‘yesterday’.
“Are you going to be quiet all day long?”
I nodded.
“Why do you think you choose silence?”
She had to be kidding.
“You can write your answer here, if you want.”
“Silence doesn’t exist” I wrote.
Then I said: “At least, not inside my head.”
“So, you mean your head is… noisy?”
“Not really. There’s always sound.”
“What sort of sound?”
“My voice. Everybody else’s voices. Music of
memories.”
“You’re always remembering things, you say.”
“I can’t help it. But I wish I didn’t.”
“You can help it. If you stop living in the
past and start living your present day.”
“My present day sucks. I hate it. I mean, I’m
in a fucking hospital, for Christ’s sake.”
“It’s your choice. You have to choose what you
think is best for you. And I’m here to help you see that.”
“Nothing can help me. I’m cursed.”
So there was something wrong with me.
There was a problem.
Beyond my knowledge, beyond Dr Cameron’s.
Something mystic,
Something magical,
Something dark;
And heavy, and painful, and dangerous.
Maybe I was given the wrong soul.