The Dreamer ✓

Letter 12

NO.12; A LETTER TO THE PERSON YOU HATE THE MOST

FEBRUARY 8th, 2014

Dear Me,

Is it sad that it didn't take me long to decide who it was I hated the most? Is it sad that person happens to be me? I mean, that has to be just a little tragic right? But, c'mon, who else was it going to be? And what is humanity when it's not tragic?

You know, for a second, I thought it might be Evelyn or Christine or even Narumi but it's not. Sure, I don't like them but it's not this consistent throbbing flow of hatred. It's closer to distaste, the kind that makes your mouth tighten into a grimace. No, I don't hate them. I don't think I really and truly hate anyone. Well, anyone who isn't me. I didn't truly realise that until yesterday.

It was after I'd failed to write that letter to Mum. I'd scrunched the paper up with tears streaking my face and thrown it across the room. A harsh, burning wave of shame crashed over me and I fell back onto my bed. I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes but it didn't stop the tears from spilling. I'd never felt so disgusted with myself. I'd never felt so weak and worthless as I did in that wretched moment. I kept asking myself what was wrong with me. Why couldn't I write one letter to my mother? Just one fucking letter. That was all. Just one letter. One letter. Just let her know I loved her. Tell her everything I'd meaning to say since she died, everything I never got the chance to say before she died and everything I couldn't say after she died.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to wail like a banshee because it was all building up in my chest but I couldn't. Not when Evelyn was next door with Nadia Tawfeek and Rosanna Keitel. They're the biggest gossips in sixth form and God knows, Evelyn would feel mortified if they knew her sister was having a breakdown. I couldn't let them hear me crying. It would be like walking straight into a den packed with hyenas. They would see me in this state and they would devour me. So, I bit my tongue and held it in. The fear of being seen so shattered kept the scream at bay. All I could do was cry silently into my hands and as I lay there, my breathing ragged and my chest heavy with a raging sort of darkness, the face of the enemy emerged from the chaos.

It wasn't Jasmin. It wasn't Evelyn. It wasn't my father. It wasn't Kyle Witter or Sera Hasan.

It was me.

My own pallid face stared back at me in the darkness and I finally knew my enemy. What are you supposed to do when you find out something like that? Do you celebrate? Is there anything worth celebrating when you find out the great darkness in your life is not some force created by the universe or some sneering man in the periphery of your vision, but that it's you. You are the great darkness. I am my own despair. What do you do when you find out you are your own demons. I am the nightmare I have been fearing all these years.

What do you do? What am I supposed to do with that kind of information? Someone tell me. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. Oh God. What's the use in asking myself? I'm useless. I feel so lost and unknown. I feel like I'm drowning and I don't have the will to save myself. I think I might just let myself sink and sink until I'm buried so deep in the chasm and the darkness is so dense, the memory of light is just that, a memory.

I'll tell you what I did when I realised the enemy I'd been struggling to find for so long was me. I cried. I dug the heels of my hand harder into my eyes and I cried silent, feverish sobs. I wanted to claw my eyes out and scream and weep and disappear into nothingness. I don't know how long I stayed like that but I must have fallen asleep at some point. I startled awake to resounding silence and the bleak black sky peaking at me through my curtains. My phone told me it was half one in in the morning. Everyone in the house had already gone to bed.  

I had a splitting headache from all the crying, so I rummaged through the drawers and downed a couple tablets of Nurofen. The heaviness in my chest was still there and I doubted it would leave any time soon. I pushed the curtains open a little wider so I could look out onto the empty street. I briefly wondered if I was the only one awake. A few houses down to my right, the living room light was still on and I saw a silhouette moving about. My eyes soon wandered up to the night sky. The stars blinked down at me and I wondered what they thought of humanity. What they thought of me. I wondered if there were gods nestled in the stars and if they had been watching us all these centuries. They must be bored by now. Watching us make the same mistakes over and over again.

I turned around and grabbing a notebook and pen from my bag, I sat back down on my bed and I started to write this letter. So, here I am. It's nearly two o'clock in the morning and I'm writing this letter in the dim light of the moon.

I'm not going to sit here and list out all the things I hate about myself because what would be the point? I don't think I can cry anymore. My body feels too barren to grow sadness. Maybe – maybe, I should try and figure out why I feel that way or maybe I should go to a therapist. But the idea of someone poking around in my head like that is unsettling. I guess I'll just have to figure this whole thing out on my own. I have to defeat my demons. So, now, I guess the million dollar question is...

How do you do defeat yourself?

Love, Morgana.