In this room there are no friendly faces, in this room enemy’s are all around me, they are the audience to my play that is the tragic second half where I am eviscerated by the unknown hooded figure because in the end I am the side character and not the heroine, in this room I know they could help me, I know they could but they remain silent as the voyeurs of a great tragedy before them, it tickles there insides because in the end there are no friends in this room.
My friend who has now disappeared from the world once told me about these people in this room, where we all fight for a common goal.
This is not like war where no man is left behind, here it’s every person for themselves, you don’t look behind when your friend falls into the mud, you don’t go back to help them, you just leave them to be sucked into the brown muck, and you don’t return because in the end the wounded hold you down.
I did not believe him at the time, how could a human be so callous to a fellow with the same purpose, the same goals but now I know what he meant, we may share the same trench but here we are all enemy’s.
She looks at me with such disdain in her eyes, her lips pinched almost if she had been sucking a lemon her entire life. I know she wants to hurt me, physically, mentally and all the pieces in between, was it because I asked too much or didn’t understand or because of the trouble that inevitably drags along with me. She would dispose of me if she had the power to but she is as powerless as I am, we are equal in this place yet are distanced by time and a false rank given by a institution filled with empty promises and broken nets you inevitably fall into, then the question remains did you fall right or no question at all.
The air is cut with feral hunger as the others wait patiently for my death but although I have fallen I am not dead yet, I kiss the ground repeatedly the pain reminding me that a sliver of me remains in this meat suit, that I am still stuck in this torturous play which I cannot escape, the exits are blocked, the doors are gone, the windows have evaporated and I’m alone on the stage with a audience baying for my blood.
It’s quiet with a million eyes on me, the harsh lights shine on me showing each and every blemish, imperfection and ugly scar that mar my body to the audience, air is stuck in my throat going not up nor down but resting midway. I imagine what life is like behind these walls where I am free of these harsh stares, where the sun smiles lightly on my skin as I eat my ice cream by a cool light blue river that reflects a perfect life that I ever so dreamt about, I could almost step into the dream but my feet are to firmly planted in reality and I am still in the room where time no longer exists. No amount of wishing will cast me out from this nightmare. I wish I had the power to leave, to unblock the exits and fight my way out like a heroine of the story living the rest of the days in a happy tranquil place but I’m not the hero I’m the side character who gets murdered in the second half who gets the gory death, so that’s what I will do, play my part with a smile on my face.
Her words cut into me like knives dipped in fire, ripping apart my flesh to the bone digging deeper and deeper inward, finely cutting me into a powder disappearing into the carpet, I feel the ever present quirking of lips of the audience, a silent applause playing to my death.
Pulling, melding, screwing myself back together is agonizing at such a fast pace, I cannot show weakness, I cannot allow myself to become a folding chair for in this room I have no friends and weakness will not be tolerated. I breathe deeply,
I turn around and stare blankly at the screen scrolling through funny sites as a hot flush comes over me, a wetness dwells in my eyes and tears run down my cheeks, I cannot be who I am anymore. No longer am I the side character I’m the villain because in this room I am alone.