So this is how it feels like when you are at the end of your journey.
I didn’t think that there would be time for a self-reflection like this but here I am, doing what people in movies and TV shows do – self-reflecting, inside a cheap motel cabinet as I wait for the right time to stab that son of a bitch in the heart and get mine back – literally.
As this thought processes in my head, the man that I have been looking for, for as long as I can remember, is now in front of the closed cabinet, smiling at me, as if he can see from the other side. I push open the cabinet door and quickly stab him in the liver.
‘GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT BACK!’
Life wasn’t always this complicated, I reflect some more as I watch him still mocking and laughing at me while I stab him repeatedly.
One thousand and seventy-four days ago
Here's the routine: I get home from work; I feed my cat, have a light dinner, work out for an hour, shower and go to bed. When I wake up in the morning; I feed my cat, have breakfast, get ready for work and go to work.
There’s the occasional travel with friends, the bar hopping, which I feel too old for despite being only thirty - there are just too many nineteen year old in the pubs - I also have a lot to say on that but that’s for another time. There are the dates that never went anywhere - it’s not me, it’s you deal or was it the other way around, I can’t be bothered to remember because everything I mostly remember about are hazy flashes.
One thousand and seventy-three nights ago, I woke up to the insistent meowing of my cat, Pushkin, meowing like he lost his senses or maybe it was because I had trouble breathing then because I felt something heavy sitting on my chest and it definitely can’t be the cat. As I opened my eyes, it wasn’t an ex or my crush at the gym who I wished so hard would stalk me and break into my house in the middle of the night. No, the first thing I see is a stranger sitting on top of me, smiling, holding up a pen knife above his head. It gleamed, reflecting the little light that is coming from the bathroom.
All my grogginess left my body, I was alert and frozen, conscious that this man will kill me eventually. It took us maybe about thirty seconds just staring at each other and in the same position and I did the most pathetic thing in the world - I didn’t do anything. I don’t even remember if I remembered to breathe. I started shaking in fear and he was hushing, hushing and smiling and smiling. He was so amused by my reaction, the surprise and complete dread on my face. I don’t know how long that went and suddenly, he whispered, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe’ and he plunged the knife down.
There was no feeling, I’m not sure if I even had time to scream. I do not recall pain or any words said after, just the sound you make when you go under water for the first time.
I sat up from my bed, breathing as if I was coming up for air. The last time I did this was when I had the worst nightmare of my life which came true eventually - it’s a sad, sob story but that’s another story for another day. As I started to cry and cursing, it was times like these that I sometimes wish I had someone to comfort me. Just sometimes. I get off the bed and make my way to the bathroom in the darkness, feeling the wall and my surroundings for support. I could’ve sworn I left the light on. I am feeling disoriented but I felt lighter in some way. It was just a nightmare, I assure myself. Just a nightmare, I tell myself again as I flip the switch on and the first thing I see when I looked on the mirror was blood. My entire reflection on the mirror is covered in blood. My entire chest, my shorts were covered in blood and there was a hole where my heart is supposed to be. I stare at it and I can’t be sure what happened next.
All I remember were flashes, like visual cue cards were being shown to me in random but I refuse to read it or follow it.
Reaching out to the hole in my chest, shaking, convulsing even, I don’t know how long til I was going to die, who’s going to take care of Pushkin, my family, who will mourn for me, did I regret not eating that carrot cake - yes, fucking hell, who’s going to find me on the floor dead, everything went spinning and blackness.
So, if you are having a really bad day, think of me.