loop
She was crying again. Another night without sleep. Her favorite music played softly in her ears as she lip-synced the lyrics. Those words perfectly described her life, her feelings, her despair. She knew them like the back of her hand. They were the only ones that truly understood her, offering comfort and a fleeting sense of connection. But the pain remained. The beautiful voice singing in her ears reminded her of how miserable she was.
Her nose became blocked from crying so much, and she started sniffing. Once again, the music began to hurt her. It felt like poison: transporting her away from the world but burning her from the inside. She loved stirring her emotions, allowing that awful pain to invade her thoughts and turn them dark. She had grown accustomed to it, an addiction that let her feel something-anything-in a psyche starved of positive emotions.
Her room was like a coffin. Dirty, with garbage scattered on the floor, the shutters completely closed, clothes piled in her closet and others lying abandoned. Yet she didn't care. She was used to it. Why bother cleaning when she didn't have the energy? What was the point, knowing it would go back to the same state? This space mirrored the chaos deep inside her.
She walked to the window and opened it. Sometimes she liked the icy wind. She looked up and saw the full moon, majestic and luminous as always. She couldn't help but stare, as if it were magic, as if it could change her life. The cold air chilled her tear-streaked cheeks. As she gazed at the moon, she replayed her insignificant life in her mind, drowning in the grief it seemed to bear witness to. She tried to spot a few stars, but most were hidden by the city lights. A heavy yawn escaped her, and she finally made her way back to bed, collapsing into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Suddenly, a loud noise jolted her awake. Vibrations from her alarm clock echoed in the room. Her eyes wouldn't open. It felt as if she had just fallen asleep moments ago. Tiredness hurt. She didn't want to go. She couldn't. Every morning, it was the same struggle.
But she couldn't give in. Her future was at stake.
The noise, the people. Their pathetic laughter, their childish shrieks, their judgmental stares, their mocking smiles. It was all too much. She endured it every time she set foot outside, especially in those buildings. She couldn't take it anymore. And yet, she carried on. She kept getting up. She kept stepping out.
But why? Why did she do it? She knew she was nothing, that she had no future. So why? Maybe it was hope-a delusional, illusory hope. Yet, deep down, she knew it wasn't enough. That hope wouldn't last. She was trapped in a world she hated, a world that felt utterly meaningless.
Why was she forced to live in it? She never asked to exist, so why was she here?
These thoughts consumed her daily, sometimes sinking even deeper and darker. She fought to keep them at bay. If she didn't, she feared she might go crazy. And if she did, what then? Maybe she'd hurt herself... Oh no, she already had. The scars on her arms bore witness to her psychological state, her distress.
But who cared? Who freaking cared about her? Her parents? Her siblings? Her friends? No. No one. Nobody. Anybody. Nothing. They never cared, and neither did she. She no longer felt anything for them. In fact, she couldn't even remember ever feeling anything.
What was the point of feelings?
She sighed. She had let her thoughts spiral again, as she did every day.
By now, the sun was setting. She stood in front of the streetcar, waiting to go home once more. She hadn't even realized how much time had passed. The days felt long when she lived through them, but by nightfall, they blurred into nothingness. Today had already become yesterday.
She longed for calm and silence. She could hardly tolerate the unbearable presence of humans anymore.
When the streetcar arrived, she managed to find a free seat, for once. She put on her headphones and began listening to soothing music.
And then...
Back to her room. Back to square one. Another unproductive day.
