I kept hearing her, especially during midnight.
"Who are you?"
I kept asking the same question, but all I could hear was a small chuckle on the other end. She's mocking me- that was my thought everytime.
But then, on one windy night while I was reading Haruki Murakami's latest book under the night lamp, the voice rang again.
"Hi."
That was all she said.
I paused, while looking across my room in near darkness. The night lamp was flickering for a second. The hair on the back of my neck stood still for a while as the wind picked up. I often left my window opened all day as the weather tends to get hotter each day.
My heart was pounding, my hands felt clammy. I must be imagining things, I convinced myself. I glanced towards the clock- it was already past midnight. I put the book down, laid down and placed the purple pillow over my head.
I was left alone for a while before my mind was reeling again. I knew the voice that I heard was my own thought. The voice was surreal, I almost felt like she was laying down beside me and mocking me.
I was left tossing and turning in bed, hoping to catch a deep sleep but the voice seems not to care. The thought that she put inside my head, it was enough to make me having sleepless nights. My stomach rumbled. Despite by my sleepless state, I felt strangely awake.
Somehow, I learned to ignore it.
But I often lose the battle and ended up doing house chores at 3 in the morning or reading Dan Brown all over again. Sometimes, I felt emotionless. I was numb- I don't even care if the world ends tomorrow.
My mind is filled with numerous thoughts, many of which was unpleasant to say the least. I was terrified of my own self. This is not me, I thought.
"No. This is you." She rang again.
It has sometimes gotten to the point that I want to cease to exist.
I feel like losing control, but something kept guiding me towards the right path. It could be my family, my friends or even my sick soul that wanted to chase the promising bright light at the end of the road.
My left hand was tingling, like there were ants crawling underneath the skin. I stared at it for a good few minutes before thinking why I felt it. I could explain it from medical perspective but I'm not fairly sure that was the cause.
I sometimes want to hurt myself.
Bad thought, I know. But I couldn't help it. Maybe I need to talk to someone.
Someday.
"Who are you?"
I kept asking the same question, but all I could hear was a small chuckle on the other end. She's mocking me- that was my thought everytime.
But then, on one windy night while I was reading Haruki Murakami's latest book under the night lamp, the voice rang again.
"Hi."
That was all she said.
I paused, while looking across my room in near darkness. The night lamp was flickering for a second. The hair on the back of my neck stood still for a while as the wind picked up. I often left my window opened all day as the weather tends to get hotter each day.
My heart was pounding, my hands felt clammy. I must be imagining things, I convinced myself. I glanced towards the clock- it was already past midnight. I put the book down, laid down and placed the purple pillow over my head.
I was left alone for a while before my mind was reeling again. I knew the voice that I heard was my own thought. The voice was surreal, I almost felt like she was laying down beside me and mocking me.
I was left tossing and turning in bed, hoping to catch a deep sleep but the voice seems not to care. The thought that she put inside my head, it was enough to make me having sleepless nights. My stomach rumbled. Despite by my sleepless state, I felt strangely awake.
Somehow, I learned to ignore it.
But I often lose the battle and ended up doing house chores at 3 in the morning or reading Dan Brown all over again. Sometimes, I felt emotionless. I was numb- I don't even care if the world ends tomorrow.
My mind is filled with numerous thoughts, many of which was unpleasant to say the least. I was terrified of my own self. This is not me, I thought.
"No. This is you." She rang again.
It has sometimes gotten to the point that I want to cease to exist.
I feel like losing control, but something kept guiding me towards the right path. It could be my family, my friends or even my sick soul that wanted to chase the promising bright light at the end of the road.
My left hand was tingling, like there were ants crawling underneath the skin. I stared at it for a good few minutes before thinking why I felt it. I could explain it from medical perspective but I'm not fairly sure that was the cause.
I sometimes want to hurt myself.
Bad thought, I know. But I couldn't help it. Maybe I need to talk to someone.
Someday.
- 05:22
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