Dear diary

The more I am aware of my existence the crazier I get … I chose to see without the seal and accept them; those who live between us, I mean. My behaviour has changed since I became more aware of them. When I go to wash for the Maghreb prayer I move subconsciously in the bathroom in circles and my mind wanders off to discuss stupid small worthless conversations which are not related to each other. Maybe I’m taking them out of my system?

When my mother wakes me up for the Fajer prayer, I wake up laughing at her and I stay in bed till my mind wakes me up, I don’t remember laughing at her. In my prayers, I remember silly matters and try to hold my giggles by pinching myself. Last night I lost control over my body and I danced almost like I gave in to the music and my hair got messed up like the hair of a mad woman’s. I see my mom sometimes looking through the window with a fragile look on her face and a broken back, she looks too disappointed.

Last night though, I had the sweetest dream and I asked myself in my dream – “Am I dreaming? This is too good to be true … It is real!” Then I woke up and my mind made up its mind to check my arm. Yes, my mind, my soul and I are three individuals sharing a body. I couldn’t move my right hand at all, I tried to imagine it opening and closing but it doesn’t work. I thought “Is this a nightmare?” No, it is real. It’s six am in the morning and I am crying. I tried to move my fingers with my other hand but they won’t move, they were stiff and hard, I feared that they would break. I tried moving my wrist but it falls till the very end as if it’s dead. I tried to wake my hand up but there was no use. When I felt it, it felt like it’s another person’s hand, a Mannequin’s! It didn’t feel human at all, I felt betrayed.

I started to cry like a mother would on her dead child. I stopped to finally conclude – “My dream, it was too sweet, someone was trying to keep me in it so they can manage to kill my hand. Who was it? Why? What do they want?” I didn’t sleep yet, I’m too frightened! Oh please god, oh thank god! I won’t sleep for I fear the death of my hand!

Advertisements

The voices in my head

Closing my ears won’t help losing those loathsome voices, their laughs and ugly prayers only got louder. One day I invited them on a feast of children and sat them down on a round silver table … They all came waiting to eat, looking at me with their bulging eyes and crooked smiles. I locked the doors and white weapons were hiding in my cupboard, I opened it wide and I saw the fear in their eyes, they screamed in horror and it was pleasure to my eyes.

I brought out an axe and slaughtered them like little lamps and I did all of the nasty things they wanted me to do before. In the end, I cut them in pieces and piled their repellent parts and ripped out guts on the red table and I sat them on fire, they were the candles that lit my dinner. Mmmm spine-chilling. I am happy to say that I have never heard more than four voices again.