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What would you do, if one day you were an undergraduate, curious and passionate, and the next, a shell, shocked and quiet? What would you do, if one day you were laughing, and the next your tears wouldn’t stop falling? What would you do, if one day your future was as certain as certain could be, and the next you felt like you were losing your sanity? This happened to Yuka, on the night of Tuesday November 17th. Her answer? Lying. To the world, to herself, to anyone watching. She’d do anything not to be called crazy. But how long could she pretend fiction was reality? Not long enough, it seemed, for if things hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped on that Tuesday November 17th, they weren’t about to start now...

Other / Romance
Age Rating:

Chapter ١

“That’ll be £2.50,” Yuka heard herself say,

Though the voice sounded as much hers as boots did ballet.

The words had rushed out like gunshots during a riot,

Delivered on autopilot,

Something automatic coming out of her mouth.

Yuka didn’t know how long it had been since things were like this.

Everyday felt like the first time anew,

Everyday it felt like this was the life she always knew.

Yuka was aware that something was wrong.

Her blurry vision was only one of the symptoms on a list so very long.

It was not common to feel outside of oneself,

Yet never inside her own body did she find herself.

She was someplace else,

Watching from afar as it did what it did.

She wasn’t seeing the world from her body’s eyes,

But from an outsider’s,

Watching her body as it moved to its next location,

Watching as her story unfolded without her narration.

Sometimes lapses of time would pass

And she wouldn’t even remember them.

Her skin tingled like in it were pieces of a crumbled gem.

Yuka wasn’t exactly in a daze,

More like she was trapped in the haze.

She tried,

But she could never open her eyes

Wide enough.

Yuka felt as solid as melting snow.

She was above herself and what was happening below.

She felt floaty,

Like a balloon attached by a string to her body.

Neither could she stray from it,

Nor could she ever be one with it.

She was just - there, everywhere like air.

She was just - gone, invisible to all like midnight dawn.

To pass time Yuka cleaned the counter.

She rearranged the few books behind her

To be in alphabetical order,

But then decided it would be nicer

If they were categorized by color.

She chewed on a cherry,

Anything to keep her busy.

Anything to offset

Her thoughts from remembering how she was simply

Going through the motions.

Anything to forget

Her mind’s intrusive questions.

Sometimes she felt like she was watching tv from inside her own head

And her life was playing out in front of her

But she was just a mere spectator,

Never an actor.

All she did was




Allen was in front of her so suddenly she almost let out a scream.

Yuka knew he was her coworker,

But at the same time he felt like a stranger.

She knew him,

And yet it was like she didn’t.

However she pretended,

Like it was something on which her life depended.

If she acted long enough

To forget her own soul,

Could she become the role?

Not for the first time,

She desperately wanted that to be an achievable goal.

If the answer were to be yes,

She’d have so much more control.

She had a feeling,


That the answer was no.

Allen said something.

Looked at her as though he was waiting for a reply with a pitying ring.

“I’m so sorry,”


But Yuka wasn’t.

So she said not a word.

She was neither glad

Nor sad.

She should be empathetic,

Be apologetic,

Be anything,

But she wasn’t.

She couldn’t force feelings to appear,

Though she had never wished for anything in ways this severe.

What was the point of having hundreds of words to describe human emotions,

If she could only feel a single drop out of all their oceans.

Where was the justice

In feeling only numbness?



Just plainly,

Crushingly -


Yuka was going south

Descending into the underground’s dark damp mouth.

But it didn’t feel so very different from the world above.

Even there a street felt like an alleyway

Somewhat grey,

Somewhat dull,

Somewhat flat.

Yuka passed by a reflective banner in which shone

A reflection that was supposedly her own.

Though to her it felt unknown.

She moved a finger,

And so did the person in the mirror.

She pinched the skin under her ring,

Felt the slightest sting.

It was definitely attached to her

By one way or another.

How peculiar.

“I just want to be normal,”

She lamented as she reached her apartment door.

Simply breathing felt like a chore.

Yuka could take no more.

“I just want to escape my head.

I want it to stop.

Won’t it stop?”

It never stopped.

Not when she was showering.

Not when she was changing.

Not when she was breathing.

Only when she had slipped under her covers

Did she feel any semblance of control appearing.

Yuka looked forward to sleeping.

It meant escaping,

For dreams

Of the wildest folly

Felt more real

Than reality.

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