Flight

Her intense stare and sinister expression searched me for the faintest trace of happiness that she could just use to change the mood of things, as i poured out my deepest hurts and painful emotions to her. She was the only one i opened to, the one person i confided in. she was my life source, the only thing that preserved the last part of my humanity. she was the only one i spoke to, ever since i left home and denounced the world's existence.

''return home, please, for yourself at least'', sighed vanessa, as she allowed her dreary eyes scrutinise my worn out face. it had gone really skinny to the point where my under-nourished paper-thin skin seemed translucent against my cheek bones, which was of no surprise since my meals barely consisted more than the leftovers at coffeshops.

''i do not have one anymore, and you know perfectly well how it would be impossible for me to ever return to one'', i said lazily, knowing she was not going to be naive enough to think that i would relent to such a request. it would be like my body running a mutiny aginst every particle in my brain.

it was a quarter of an hour past eleven when i left her place for the park, where i would seek solace and spend the night. as i made my way down the stretch of road, i barely noticed the cars whizzing past shining their bright lights at me that my eyes had already grown indifferent and numb to, or realise the questionable way i walked that reflected the soreness in my ever muscle. i was growing numb towards the world. i was growing tired of the lifestyle i led, frustrated with the way i took my meals and resented having to fight the chilly winds every morning. yet i could not return home, the hurt in me etched too deep to ever be healed, my brokenness could never be mended.

the cloth band i wore around my left wrist now was once the possession of my grandmother, whom i held dear to. she was, then, my protection and oasis of comfort whenever my parents hurled criticisms and threw nasty commentsat my incompetence and inferiority. but age had to take her, and i was left defenceless against the tirade of insults that i no longer had the stomach for. my education suffered, i lost my self worth and was starting to accept and believe what my parents said about me. i had to leave; and i did. they wanted me back, but that was never to happen.

it was one in the morning, and i had been too absorbed in thought to realise that i had already by-passed the park an hour ago. the air was still and the traffic had died down. i continued walking forward instead of turning back. my legs carried me up a fly-over, where i stopped to overlook the road below.

life had lost all meaning and i hardly could offer a reason for my continual existence. why was i even putting up with eating scraps, sleeping on the hard ground and living the life of a destitute. if i had something to lose to death, it would be the frustrations and hatred i haboured within me - and i was ready to surrender all of these to it.

and as i unbuckled my belt from my waist and fastened it around my neck, images of my parents yelling at me came to me which spurred me on to complete the ritual: climbing over to the other side of the railing that lined the flyover and attaching one end of the belt to the base of the railing.

and as i lowered myself from the ledge and allowed the air in my lungs to empty the final time, i pondered over the question of why it had to all happen to me. and of why my flight of life had to be this turbulent; this hard.