Monday, 20 September 2010

Papercut. Chapter 6.


The word echoes slow, soft, fast then strong. Quiet until it becomes louder causing me to stir awake from the dead as the dreams never remembered, the gap feeling erased and betrayed, as if it were a mute tune for a musician, in my head. Was it a female or a male repeating it? Or was it a simply faint echo of my inner voice? Or my muse perhaps? I opened my eyes before shutting them so hard, that pain hit my brain like cold water. I had to get up, saying that there was no alternative would be a big damn lie because there was. There always is. In this case it would be putting my head between the feather pillow and the hard mattress catching dust bunnies in my mouth. Afterwards I’d pull the covers and force or simply fall asleep, releasing them.

But no. I felt enthusiastic all of a sudden. Today was my day. I feel it. I could feel it in my fingers, feel it in my toes. I should stop the Love, Actually references and my sister pouring milk into her bowl, fingers dyed blue. They seemed to smell of home, but that didn’t put me down. Instead I sprung out of bed. Today was the today.

To forget home.

Today I need to find a job.

To get my sister out of my head. Along with the family and past failures.

Today I need to go to the university meeting which they were s’posed to postpone, but thankfully didn’t. I spent all day unpacking, waiting. No, no, I was waiting for this moment all of my life! All of my bloody life, I dreamt of going to that university, moving to this city. Which could come after long thoughts of denial. Here I am. Here I stand. See me laugh as I walk past the city streets with thoughts of homework flooding my brain against my endless tries. I’ll let it flood my brain. I’d welcome it with a tall latte. I’ll let homework keep me up. All that mattered was that I was here.

I was fulfilling my dream. At last. Finally.

Screw the fancy saying ‘the target isn’t the thing that matters, but the journey does’. The journey was over. Eternal bliss ahead. I was on the target stomping my feet all over the red x and I felt heaven. Everything was like nectar around me, which I drink greedily, slipping past my lips, past my chin, soaking my clothes to make my reality sticky and sweet. Everything huggable, kissable and lovable. Love and happily ever after past and possible. I didn’t care that I had to take the bus nearly to every single destination I wanted, which meant the city centre. I am here.

I am here.

I am here.

I am here.

The words echo in my brain, I mouth them, I say them out loud, I even felt a sudden urge to yell them, but the thing was I don’t care how much I repeat them. The meaning was the same and the meaning was the thing that mattered to me more than anything. The core was now believing and giving a high five to the fortune telling subconsciousness.

I spring out of bed quickly. I don’t bother with the covers and just leave my bed untidy. I wanted to get out of my room and the luring desire to start this new day fills me like some light shinning from above, as poetic as it sounds. Today was a special occasion, but I think my usual appearance didn’t really hint that. My usual white, my usual choice which was some random pair of jeans and my faithful dark blue converse awaiting me downstairs.

I run downstairs, like some small kid excited about a party, like a teenager excited about his upcoming date with the girl he fancied, like a girl getting married. Oh, there were so many occasions, but much to my dismay, in life they weren’t ever day. Now they will be. I storm into the kitchen, ignoring the thud which resulted as the door and wall exchanged a kiss.

Filled with passion.

Full of lust and agony.

“Goood moooorning!” I say to nobody in particular and see Kayleen raise her head above the open fridge door. Her facial expression was opposite to mine’s. I can’t help but grin at her with a mad look in the eye. I feel like taking her face in my palms and give her a so-called broken kiss. I hate and love that name at the same time. As if I’d waltz with it. But then maybe she won’t smile back at me. Maybe she’ll give me a confused stare? A slap? To break my cheek, the broken puzzle now upon the floor as I look up to feel her laugh. Oh, I’d love to find out but instead I grab some bread and fiddle with the toaster before turning it on. The button is big and orange, but my mind is focused on finding a simply purple one.

Then I stop as I wait for the bread to literally become toast. What if this was banal? What if my greeting was banal? What if this would end up in the choking vortex of banality? What if this slowly turns into something daily? I ate toast every day back home in the morning trying to mute reality with my headphones, eyes blank staring and closed underneath a shower of falling stars burning my skin and dreams to accept to consider them possible as the stars become softer and brighter as I shall step inside. I heard my sister rant, my parents argue sleepily about what to do in the evening as their children’s brains rot due to the big amount of endless homework. What was banality in general?

Was I just repeating everything here which I want to run away from? I look down at my scarf, its intense mossy green glaring back at me for describing it banal in my head.

I shake my head and the scent of burned bread hit me that I turned it off in haste. Doctor, the patient is alive and eatable. I smile, proud, taking the bread and opening the cupboard. Where I just put it yesterday. I take out that godlike jar of marmalade, grinning slightly. It was my turn to go and get the groceries, while Kayleen cleaned the house slightly, aside from my room. Our rooms were still off-limits to each other to clean as we were parents afraid to enter a teenager’s room stashed with porn in their own heads, leaking out, blocking out reality with no exact feeling. I guess it was fair, but I had to force myself after bringing two full bags of supplies.

“So… that boyfriend of yours, how long have you been dating?” I ask aloud, taking a bite of my toast watching her fall on the chair besides the table, sleep summoning her into the city of dreams with Mr. Kayleen. The girl ruffles her hair, glancing at me and presses her hand against her cheek, expressing her tired state, desire to show the lack of sleep and racing disturbing thoughts which may lie behind the door or straight if I’d look through the marmalade jam to see what I expect to see and grasp what I have to grasp to find and swallow wishing to reach the eyes. The question didn’t seem to startle her, instead she takes a small gulp of her tea and leans her head back, a small smile appearing on her lips. Her light eyes look up, as she laughs without a single sound, recalling some memory most likely spent with that unknown lad.

Unlucky. Me.

“Quite a while. Never really counted.” Her last phrase ends up in a faster speed than she’d usually talk, hinting that she was lying, but not like I minded. After all who was I? I was her roommate nothing else and I certainly did not expect her to blur out everything at once with a giant crappy eraser, no matter how much I liked gossiping in the mornings. I have absolutely no idea why, maybe I was a gossip girl in my past life, I don’t know.

I smile at her feeling relaxed. I take another bite of my toast, feeling full. I never really enjoyed breakfast straight away, I loved to sneak out of school and run to the nearest Starbucks and grab something there and have what I truly called breakfast missing algebra and greetings to a complete concrete world. But for my first breakfast, my love for toast and marmalade makes its way to my stomach without really questioning me, fulfilling its meaning of life.

“I… broke up recently.” I pause, trying to cooperate with what I was going to say. Then Kayleen’s curiosity woke her up, as her eyes focus on me, trying to get as much information about my personal life. Maybe she’ll blackmail me later, I don’t know. I glance at her, trusting her fully. Stepping over the awkward line into an awkward place, where if she sees Lola, she’ll get it.

“I was jealous, tired, annoyed, never really understood that actually. I think I saw her flirting. Maybe she was two-timing me. Maybe I was. In my mind, my thoughts never describing the ideal loyalty. But then, I think the thought of university, being grown-ups clouded us and the fact that we were high school sweethearts was kind of un-cool. You get cool boyfriends and girlfriends in uni. I’m not sure, too many theories what happened then. Actually… I don’t remember the exact moment.” My voice cracks at my last phrase, headache, a hand upon the back of my neck, slowly taking off my scarf with such tenderness, because I had gone too far. I wasn’t technically myself then. It was me, only, I was aggressive, I wanted her out of my life then. I had been holding my anti-muses hand then, fingers intertwined, grapes to be fed in hand and the lawn green underneath my anti-muse’s feet and underneath Lola’s as well.

And I succeeded, much to my dismay.

With the green under us all. As the grapes would be shared.

“Oh.” Kayleen said chewing on my past relationship with Lola spitting it to find her own long lasting one, even if I did not know if the duration a lie or not. Maybe he wasn’t even real? But then I glance at her spacing off to another memory. He wasn’t. I was no fool, I know what’s it’s like to smile dumbly, look above, laugh hysterically, bite your bottom lip and just be happy due to the fact that you are together or not, but the feeling fills you, maybe like a parasite, like some weird drug, but you can’t deny the fact what it is. And the dumb thing is that you feel proud of it. Up to the point that you can wear a badge saying taken, not because you’re not single, but because you’re there and the person knows it.

Freaking proud as endless happiness fills you, closing all of the previous deeply cut wounds and holes.

But I can’t help but not smile. I am jealous, yeah, I am, only in a damn good way. I mean who would deny the fact that they don’t want to be loved? I couldn’t help but glance at her from while to while. Oh, how jealous I was. She’d bit her lip from while to while as endless memories flood her. I couldn’t help but feel the hole inside me go wider, begin to suck in my morning mood.

The bitter question hanging off my lips as if I could ask a mirror and get a stare back, my split-personality laughing, ruffling my hair.

Was I single?

Chapter 7


  1. Now that I'm finding time to read this from the beginning, did I mention how ADORABLE Roman is? <3

    I kinda want to draw him XD Just a little bit.

  2. He is:D Yes, I love my own character, although I like Norman more.

    I have a few sketches of Roman, like the background or the first sketch when I had just created him.

    Should start posting stuff like that on my tumblr.

    By the way the last chapters should be posted, as in the last chapter and epilogue by the end of the week.

  3. Nothing wrong with loving your own characters. I'm obsessed with mine. I think it's a writer's curse XD

    But, other writers I talk to are just about in the same boat. So neither of us are alone out at sea here.

  4. It is and they feel real, actually you can feel the writer's love and how stale everything goes without character attraction if to be faiirly honest:)