A lot of times I thought about what to pen down. What pieces to put together. Maybe leave behind a few truths, compose a twisted story of make believes but here we are. In my endless circle of harsh realities.
I hope this is as normal as I can be.
You'd think having such an exquisite lifestyle would be enough. It isn't. While watching my life unfold. Taking an uncanny turn. Life's rose petals turning a dark Dalia.
Alright enough with the sob story!
(Whispers) Let's get real…
******
The walk to the airport takes a mile longer than I expect. My neck aching from the long minute queue until I get to the front row. It takes a while to settle in after I board my flight. I take my sit beside a stern looking woman. Tightlipped. Reading through her book like it holds the key to her survival. It takes a whole lot more to get me flipped over so I don't seem to care. Rather pleased to get a rare view from the window.
At least I appreciate her silence.
Inspite of it all, leftover pieces of shattered memories try its best to elude my heart. Wiping the smug smile away from my face while I stare out the transparent glass.
Memories from a few years aback sends a soft chill over my body. My clenched fist hiding my unstable harsh breaths. Brewing disdain mixed with a dash of anxiety spurns within. It had been a while since panic attacks came knocking at my door. It doesn't seem much like a surprise as the past week had been a roller-coaster of emotions. Dreading the day which had come. One which I loathed.
No one could truly explain the thin line between grief and self-loathing better than me; I felt it all. At some point. Unable to open up about my struggles till there was nothing left; A never-ending numbness. There wasn't anyone. Except of course old acquaintances pretending to understand the very root of my frustrations.
"I don't need vague explanations to my current diagnosis. What I need is someone who's broken the root of their core. Someone who can grasp the faintest understanding of how I feel. Who gets me!"
Tell that to my fired therapist.
I suppose it's all kisses and bobos for prince charming and fairytale princesses. How ironic if my childhood had turned out that way. I could remember the first rose I picked out at our little garden. Mother's warm embrace shielding me from the harsh realities of this world. I'd watch her smile brushing her hands against my hair while she speaks ever so warmly. "You're my little flower..."
All good things come to an end … eventually.
Whatever sparkle of love got drained out the moment she fell apart. A complete stranger staring me in the face as tears trickled down my cheeks.
The pilot's speech draws me back to reality. I inhale deeply, adjusting to the loud muttering of other passengers locating their seats. I fight back the burning sensation in my eyes. Prepping my mind for the journey ahead.
*****
Crazy how the world spins in antirotating bars around me. Like my cosmos fighting against each other, blocking every hope of relief; Peace.
The drive to "The Reynolds mansion" was one I had abstained from for what seemed like forever. I walked in, fighting the strangely odd feeling like I was never meant to be here. Elegantly hung decorations surrounding the room as I stare around. faintly recalling some old faces from mother's funeral years back. Quiet mumbling echoes around the room as guests stood in clusters, gloomy expressions on one hand, champagne glass on the other.
Not for nothing did they call it; "A solemn remembrance".
The odd sense of feigned grievances nauseated me while I scanned the room. Stopping to assess my rather agile looking father. A rather blissful looking smile smudged all over his face. Exchanging mumbled words with a man beside him.
"He probably couldn't recall even the faintest memory of her" I muttered.
The ceremony goes on for a while longer before guests began to take their leave. I stood by the hallway, watching as our spacious living room gradually emptied out. A heaved sigh of relief escapes my chest while I compose myself. Ahead of the little family bickering at the dinner table tonight.
Mom's room had always been a stone throw from mine. I walk into my old room, amused at how swiftly eight years unravels in a nick of time. Hyper realistic memories of her knocking at my door flashes before me. Her fondest memories while she put me to sleep as a child mixed with the dreadful days of fright and loneliness crawled up beneath my sheets as I grew older.
A sudden knock on the door jilts me from my trance.
"We're having dinner now…" I turn at the sound of a faint voice as if reaching out me. My stunning face void of expressions while I watched my father walk in.
We stood a few feet apart from each other. No one making an effort to clear the strangling air amidst us. The piercing silence engulfing the room curled up my nerves. Upset that he had no words but somewhat a sign of guilt in his eyes. I would even dare say.
Responsible.
Yet, I brushed all of my concerns. Clearing my throat to ease the tension. "It's been a while… Dad." After what seemed like long minutes, he reached out to move closer but was soon interrupted by the maid's beckon for dinnertime.
We ate in subtle calmness to petty conversations flowing across the dining room while I appeared laid back. Completely detached from my present environment. A few exchanged glances from extended families to which I reciprocated a befitting scorn. I take a fast peek at the wall clock, lost in its rhythmic movement of its hands. hoping it swings fast enough so I can catch the next flight back to my cozy apartment.
But I knew one thing.
I hated it here.
The way in which the breeze calms my once weakened heart. The muffled laughter surrounding the room like we were one happy family. Nervous smiles tainting the sweet glare of perfection we all struggled to keep.
I hated how memories never seemed forgotten here. Like a thorn waiting to strike. At least for me. "A few more hours…" I mumbled within myself. Emptying my champagne glass in one gulp.
8:45am
I wake up to a dreadful headache. Struggling to get out bed. Then I remember it's a new day break. It takes less than a second to jump out of bed, arrange and get prepared to leave. "It'll take the whole universe to get me staying another second in this hell walls."
My insides had begun to churn at the aftermath of escaping fumes of memory lane. A deep breath and I grab my keys on the shelf, my luggage on the other and shut the door.
My brisk walk to the living room takes a halt as I am met with glaring faces of my loving family. Telling all sort of sappy emotions but I could read between the deceptiveness unmasked within. (I honestly would have played a better role of feigned surprises).
"I have a flight to catch in 2 hours". My voice sounding rather abruptly follows behind as I head towards the door.
"You should have breakfast..." a rather high-pitched voice mutters to which earned no response. Sweet aunt Catherine trying to act all caring. Desperate for points from father. I couldn't care less. It aint easy being the star of the show. I continue my walk. Shutting the door behind me.
The flight back to Massachusetts was a rather peaceful one. A soothing balm to my pent scorched soul. I spent the entire journey reminiscing within myself. Scattered thoughts fixating on my unstable subconscious. Unable to hold weight in my translucent mind.
Walking into my apartment held a different feeling. An anticipated but dim sense of relaxation. Not strange yet unexpected. Rollercoasters of the past few days must have had an impact in spite of my deliberate efforts to appear unfazed.
*****