Status: The end. Thank you all so much for reading.
Wrists
shock .
We—Elijah and I—were back in the front seats of my car, exhausted after a day of classes. Wednesday was always the longest day for me; it’s hard to stay alert when you’re always tired and/or in pain. It was so silent—silent enough to listen to the dull tweets of the birds outside, or the rustling of the nearby trees. I rolled my window down a little further to let a breeze in.
“You might not want to answer it,” Elijah breathed. He turned his eyes lazily to me. “But what have you—”
“Don’t ask it if you know I don’t want to answer it.” said I.
He was silent for a short moment. And then—”what have you eaten today.”
The question took me for surprise. I opened my mouth, about to answer, but nothing came out but a low noise. He was no longer looking at me; fear that I would grow upset at such an absurd thing to ask. I pursed my lips—still—but then parted then again.
“Egg whites.” First.
Then, “Coffee.”
Following nothing more.
“...Is that all?”
“Yes.” voice guilty. Ashamed. Where was improvement if I made no effort? No need for he to say such a thing—I knew it myself, deep in my chest. I asked myself things such as this everyday, but I could never satisfy myself with a response. Because, deep inside me, I knew I was too afraid to undo the shell that was already cracking. I could feel it chipping away, but, I also knew, that at any given moment all this hard progress could be ruined. And by who, I ask? Me. Just me. Only I could destroy everything I had worked for—all because of my stupid anxiety, and irrational fears.
I was pitiful. I was a let-down. This was only to improve myself and my relationships with everyone around me—how could I do this to myself? The demons were no longer to blame; I was the one letting them take control. And I let them sit there—inside my head—for so long that their spot was nearly permanent. They were overwhelming my senses; the demons were becoming me.
Maybe I was the demons all along? Maybe the only voice inside my head was truly me? Frightening. Oh, frightening it was at this realization. Where was progress if I was the one doing this to myself? Where was the improvement? How could one save them self from themselves?
Impossible.
So where was this progress I constantly spoke of? Where was the cracks in the shell containing me if it was impossible to save one from oneself? Was it even possible, or was I just fooling my mind again? Where were the demons? Where was Graham? What had I become?
I don’t know.
“You might not want to answer it,” Elijah breathed. He turned his eyes lazily to me. “But what have you—”
“Don’t ask it if you know I don’t want to answer it.” said I.
He was silent for a short moment. And then—”what have you eaten today.”
The question took me for surprise. I opened my mouth, about to answer, but nothing came out but a low noise. He was no longer looking at me; fear that I would grow upset at such an absurd thing to ask. I pursed my lips—still—but then parted then again.
“Egg whites.” First.
Then, “Coffee.”
Following nothing more.
“...Is that all?”
“Yes.” voice guilty. Ashamed. Where was improvement if I made no effort? No need for he to say such a thing—I knew it myself, deep in my chest. I asked myself things such as this everyday, but I could never satisfy myself with a response. Because, deep inside me, I knew I was too afraid to undo the shell that was already cracking. I could feel it chipping away, but, I also knew, that at any given moment all this hard progress could be ruined. And by who, I ask? Me. Just me. Only I could destroy everything I had worked for—all because of my stupid anxiety, and irrational fears.
I was pitiful. I was a let-down. This was only to improve myself and my relationships with everyone around me—how could I do this to myself? The demons were no longer to blame; I was the one letting them take control. And I let them sit there—inside my head—for so long that their spot was nearly permanent. They were overwhelming my senses; the demons were becoming me.
Maybe I was the demons all along? Maybe the only voice inside my head was truly me? Frightening. Oh, frightening it was at this realization. Where was progress if I was the one doing this to myself? Where was the improvement? How could one save them self from themselves?
Impossible.
So where was this progress I constantly spoke of? Where was the cracks in the shell containing me if it was impossible to save one from oneself? Was it even possible, or was I just fooling my mind again? Where were the demons? Where was Graham? What had I become?
I don’t know.