Thought Abyss - Lost In My Head

an end

6th September Saturday 2008 5:30 pm

6 year old me is sitting in my first art class

My cheeks are redder than the red crayon in front of me.

An array of paints, pencils, and paper sprawled on the floor

Exactly like Maya, my cat back at home.

"Hello children, today is an exciting day", the teacher pipes up

Within minutes we are surrounded by books, and paints, and... Are those threads(?)

A few children giggle and I'm annoyed already,

Can we not study something useful instead of this stupid "String art" I ask,

Only silence replies.

6th September Sunday 2020 5:30 am

18 year old me is sitting on the bathroom floor of a hospital

My cheeks are redder than the bloodstains on my shirt

An array of medicines, syringes, and an exceptionally strong smell of disinfectant surround me.

And I feel at home.

"Are you fine in there?" I hear the doctor ask

My head is dizzy, I nod a yes, remember he can't see me, and say it out aloud.

He heaves a sign and leaves me alone, there isn't much you say to a dying child anyway.

I pick up a wet wipe from under the sink, a drop of blood drips from the corners of my mouth onto it

It smudges till it forms a blob, and as if on reflex I fold the tissue in half, watching as the blood seeps through the paper imprinting the other side with the same pattern.

I smile. It's not a happy smile, but it's a smile nonetheless.

The doctor knocks again, "it's time" he says.

Which is funny. "Time" is exactly what I don't have.

I look at the stained tissue in my hand, and a sense of belonging fills me.

Maybe I'm leaving the world now, but I am not going without leaving a mark I reckon.

Sure, no paintings to my name I think, but this blood-stained tissue will bear the memory of me.

I smile, this time it's a happy smile.

I know the tissue will be disposed of soon and my "mark" on this world will disappear too,

But hey, all a dying kid needs is some hope they've done enough.