’m trembling. Is that normal? That’s not normal, is it? Oh hell, I really am crazy. Broken.
Mum said she was trying to fix it. That mean’s it’s broken. But what’s it? She says ‘problems’ a lot, like it’s something important and horrible and aw hell, I don’t want to see a psychiatrist ‘cuz that’ll make it sound worse than it is.
I’m so, so tired.
I want to go to the beach. I’ll go soon. I’ll calm down when I’m there.
My stomach hurts.
I just want to stop for a while. Lie down and go to bed early.
I’ve had enough.
I dunno what it is. I get like this sometimes. Maybe I couldn’t find a story to read. Maybe I’ve gotten tired of reading… I think I’ll go out for a bit.
Mum’s not here. She’s been gone for two hours now. I wonder what happened.
I keep hearing that word. Japanese, I think. I’m going out now.
My hand is like a child’s against the window, small, soft, and glowing in the grey light of the sky.
Cold is pulled through the glass to fog around my fingers, smudges spreading from my fingertips to the window. Tup, tup, my fingers press, then tap, my nail hits the glass.
A spider spins its web on the other side, trapped between this pane and the next, somehow still surviving.
Is there someone on the other side? If they saw my hand, would they place their own against the window too? Or will I be alone?
Tup, tup. My hand shifts, slides down. The blinds are released and the grey light goes away.