feels like glass

This was supposed to be a record of days, wasn’t it? 

Last night, after dinner, I walked around the field nearby. Round and round, quiet, slow. I kept jumping out of my skin because I had headphones on and couldn’t hear footsteps behind me. In the opposite direction, a very pretty girl also went round and round with her family. Each time we passed, I would steal glances at her, trying my best to be discreet. I’m sure she knew anyway — girls always know when someone is looking. I passed her three times before I even realised she had a dog in tow.

*

I bought roller blades recently. I am trying to relearn a childhood trick, a pivot on a single wheel. I am trying to regain the blind courage of a child. The same guards I wore as a kid catch me every time I fall. For some reason, I haven’t outgrown them. 

*

You know, if you look hard enough, there are clues to everything in life. The sun is high in the sky and still there is rain — heavy, bloated drops smacking against pavement. In the garden, I run out to get the clothes. Aunty Leslie and I are yelling about the absurdity of this weather. Everything is getting wet but the sky remains blue and bright, mocking.

Minutes later, I am ready to leave the house for the day. I grab an umbrella but the rain has passed.  

*

At lunch, I think, is it possible that I enjoy being alone with the hellish place that is my mind? 

A man and his preteen daughter slide into the seats next to me. They doodle on napkins while waiting for food. I am not eavesdropping today because I don’t want to be distracted. But just because I’m not listening doesn’t mean I’m focused.

*

My sleep has been so poor lately. I can’t drop off to sleep at night; I can’t stay asleep come morning. I don’t even nap in the day. Instead, I stare at the ceiling around the clock, hypnotised by a life that cannot be mine — malleable, yielding. 

*

There is only one thing to remember from this week. We tell ourselves so many stories. On Wednesday, I killed my favourite one.