A Time I Knew Myself

My mind is haunted by the image of myself in the mirror. Tears appear to be burning in my eyes. What is the source of my anguish? What have I done so wrong that I am subjected to such inhumane treatment?

Nothing in my 18 years of life has been easy. Nothing has gotten to the point where I had to choose which worked best for me.

The big day had arrived. The day I accepted my tragic fate.

25th of June, 2021

Dear Dairy

I'm at a point in my life where some things are difficult for me to adjust to. Strange new happenings, and good conversations that seem to fade. What is the underlying cause of this?

I'm at a point in my life where there's no distinction between what I'm supposed to do and what I'm not supposed to do. Why is it that everything is supposed to be governed by laws? Why must everything be kept cautious and quiet?

I have an odd habit of wondering and wondering. I have an odd way of looking for answers to questions that pique my interest. Why does everything change in the blink of an eye, and when we turn around, it's all gone, as if it never existed in the first place?

Memories appear to fade. Gifts seem to fade away, and conversations seem to fall silent with the passage of time. Every day, time passes, leaving us in delirious daydreams of misery.

And all we can do is reflect on those fleeting moments. My fate had been decided, and I had no choice but to obide, but what does this mean? How am I supposed to adjust to the idea that "it's supposed to happen, it's supposed to be like that?"

For the time being, I'll have to set my hopes aside and ponder the unanswered questions.

The conclusion.

***

“Marlie, please join us for dinner!” Mom's voice brings me back to reality, away from the distracting thoughts that are circling my mind and causing havoc.

I spring to my feet and practically run downstairs.

Yes, I'm very hungry, and I can't keep it in any longer.

"I'm here..." I say out of breath.

I'm exhausted from running down the stairs. The entire table was full, and I was the only one who wasn't there. Dad was reading the newspaper at the far end, Joey, my younger brother, was on his phone, and Bell, my older sister, was busy looking in the small mirror she had.

She was always carrying a spare. So silly, I thought some days, but then I realized it's all about realizing how important you are to yourself and how that can make you feel a lot better.

“ Here are your scrambled eggs, bacon, and tamoto sauce...” Mom's voice rang out throughout the kitchen, jolting me out of my reverie.

“Thank you, Mom.”

I smile and take the seat across from Bell. She looks up, surprised, at me.

“ Hey, sis, “How are things going?” her voice beaming with excitement.

"Its going good.” The lie seemed to fall more easily than I expected, and I continued that the thoughts were suppressing me had been a major impediment in my life. The feeling of not being good enough.

“How are things going with the writing? Have you found any new inspiration lately?” she added. She smiles with her perfect teeth, which seemed unattainable. She was a goddess, and I was once again insecure.

“I'm getting there, it's going by.” Another lie that appears to be as smooth as yogurt. When I lied about it, I felt better about myself. It makes you feel both safe and depressed.

She smiles as she looks at me.

“I am overjoyed, and I hope to read any books you wish to publish.”

When I look at her, I notice something familiar.

Care.

At times, the word seemed meaningless. Finding one's true identity is a difficult task.

“I'm sorry, but I have to leave.” I suddenly get up, eat my breakfast, and walk up the stairs to my room. I open my diary and begin writing.

Dear Dairy

Today, someone cared, and it made listening seem pointless. Why do we have all these emotions if none of them can even provide me with an idea or inspiration for my next book? Writing makes me happy, and it's the only place where I feel understood.

The place where I am not judged for how I feel. I'm stuck for ideas, and lying about it seemed wrong. But there are times when I feel so suffocated that I can't seem to get anything out and everything seems to be lost again.

What is missing? what is causing me to be so serious? That is causing me to become thoughtless and to simply scream in my head in order to be heard.

Today, I found myself lost in the midst of writing, writing about unspoken feelings.

The time has come to track down the "time I knew myself." The times when nothing mattered and I did only what made me happy. I lived in a world full of hope and exciting events.

I'm looking for those days right now. I long for the days when nothing stood in my way of being myself. I long for the days when nothing was as good as writing, finding inspiration, and discovering myself on the other side of myself. The image in the mirror.

What was her state of mind? Her outer skin appeared to be cold from thinking, her eyes were pale from endless nights of being awake, and her hair was unusual and lacked a magical touch. She was at peace with herself and knew where she belonged, but she still felt a deep sense of unease that she couldn't put her finger on.

The reflection she was looking at now was herself on the other end, tears in her eyes, attempting to flee. What was the source of her sobs?

A point in time when she was aware of herself.

The conclusion.