The Ragged Robin

Ch. 6

[Page 51] Suddenly, my phone rang (I'll sob to Schubert later) and I instinctively lifted the piano's leg off my hand. As I sat upright, it was pitch black except in one area – My room. A hunched shadow emerged within the mirror, revealing crazed eyes, ugly nails, and a mark on a hand. The mirror shouldn't have been more terrified of this than what it couldn't see – A drugged bottle of wine lying still on the floor. It had my exact expression stoned to its face at the start of the holiday – Nothing. Curious (Ow! I'll use my other hand then), I picked the bottle to find a tiny crack. Thank...

There was more and my hands cringed. I turned the bottle once again only to be cut by many more discernible scars. Sight wasn't bluffing me and soon, there were everywhere, every inch. I gently placed it back on the table, worried that I won't be able to see it anymore. What an ornate bottle. Schubert's string quartet ended as I picked up my phone. Miss art philanthropist?

I waited awkwardly, expecting... something. As I pressed my phone against my ear, I was slowly able to hear how haunting the breeze is tonight. Did I open the windows before all this? Is the wind getting stronger? Or are my senses slowly coming around. I wasn't that wasted, was I?

I swelled red and ended the call, exhaling pungent fumes. I feel dry everywhere – My glands feel clouted by the wine, failing to suck out any saliva. The moisture from my face has been evaporated by the wind, and cold are my feet as the floor. The lights switched off to hide my pain. To hide my shadow. All I'm missing is a cigarette. Ha! They taste awful, yet the movies made it look so cool. At least let me rationalize my suffering. Thank you hobbies... for arresting me into this moment.

I have suffered at last. I have drank up my own misdeeds. I don't care how meaningless a scene I am making of this. Because to me, it all clicks. I have achieved wholeness. I will be one step further away from everyone. The world will soon witness a "me" that is normal, forgettable – A nobody. But inside, I am a recluse who's delighted with himself. My gains are mine. Nobody will take ownership of my struggles and achievements. Everything that I do, will be completely independent of others' mere words. The Judas has defeated God. The crickets tonight stopped upon hearing guffaws beside the window. (426 words)

[Page 52] Another phone ring strung its first note. Sigh..., two calls in a day were the most calls I had my whole life. What does she want? My guffaws were closing off before the soloist in the quartet began her protest against me. I stare into the void outside my window, resting my shoulders on the windowsill. The position I was in reminded me of Serene's dog. Cute, I guess.

This is not a biblical tale. I am no Judas, though others believe otherwise. Although calling my classmates evil is a far cry, separating myself from them will be my vision of triumphing over myself. While I had not displayed arrogant behaviours, I do put myself higher than them yet the emotions typically associated with it didn't arise. The different philosophies I learned are not worth mentioning because compared to reality, its not black as my ego. In one context, what one does in social events is unacceptable at work. Although everyone gives the same answer, no one really knows why. There's no scientific deducement behind it and yet, research colours us with such complexity. It's not that I don't believe anyone, regardless of how much of an old hand they are, but things are just... unreal.

Sometimes, deciding what's realistic is dreadful. Something or someone intervenes whenever I want to prove my point. Ever since I started secondary school before this Christmas began, my identity was the one thing of which I was certain. As long as I was in my little bubble, nothing mattered. One only likes the relationship they have with others and not their true embodiment – None other than oneself can experience himself. In other words, one is not truly himself when he is with others. It is not due to hate, love, anger, but because one's attention is divided away from himself momentarily when he conversates with someone else. He is eased off the burden of having to deal with himself, before declaring an order for his mind to manufacture information to sustain his little bubble. The issue was that it was a bubble that was ingrained, not a flower – Not an ample nor constant entity.