"I love you. With all my heart. To the end of the ocean and back."
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FEATURED BY @StoriesUndiscovered
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Missy is a promising student of art, drawing wherever she goes. She is just as talented as quiet and she seems too indifferent to care...
I was in my head... It felt like I had just closed my eyes, falling into the vat of dreams, once again... searching for something in my world where I was all alone...
All alone.
Alone.
But sometimes in this dark world of loneliness, where no shadows kept you company, I saw a reflection of her. Sometimes when I felt happy, in love and at peace... she was there. Belonging in the world that I created to escape the worlds behind it...
I was in my head.
Unable to open my eyes.
And escape my mind.
M!
The door burst open and the vacuum sucked me in and suddenly I was sitting, sweat breaking my skin and with a heart that beat out of my chest.
Owen was there.
Checking my temperature and shaking me like a madman. Cursing in his funny accent.
What the hell happened, you are hot like cols, you ass! If you were sick, you should've just stayed at home! I-
Laughter filled my room.
I was laughing my heart off. All the bits of my soul pouring from out of my mouth.
Owen shook me.
What the hell are you laughing at, you little witch!
I kept laughing as he cursed me out. I don't think he understood.
I was laughing because I was hurting and I didn't know how to heal but drink the fake we call happiness.
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You don't have to do this, I told him.
Owen strongly disagreed. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching the TV with the angriest of faces and grumbled:
Shut up and eat your soup, M.
Owen stayed with me those whole three days. Snarky, passive-aggressive, scolding but caring and worrying. Every time I stood up, he pushed my head, making me sit, stomping away to get whatever I needed. Sometimes I wondered if he expected me to pee in a bucket.
I know no one, who would go to school with a 38,3°C fever, puking every half an hour. I have no idea what you caught, you little witch but you should've stayed home...
I wasn't puking. But I said nothing and let the soup swirl around the gliding spoon which was covered in hot vapour.
I didn't catch anything, Owen.
He grew quiet.
Would you believe me if I told you, I could make myself sick with only a thought, I asked, a couple of thoughts really, I added.
Owen believed it. He understood. The emotions which were held prisoner in my mind. The fears and desires which could never escape.
I am locked away in my own world. A lesser evil... and yet evil nonetheless. One that may kill me one day, I told him in the quietest of voices.
You don't have to be alone in your head, M, you can let us in. You don't have to be so lonely, he told me.
Don't I, I asked him.
Being in someone else's head was looking at a strange world in a language you do not understand and things you can't see. Inviting strangers in was dooming them to misunderstanding. Apathy. I didn't want that. To be seen as something else. To be seen as a word in their language that I could not understand...
I told Owen that. And he tried to offer me solace.
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