Tag Archives: blackness

Black bird.

There is a class tonight. And I don’t want to see faces around me. I don’t feel like doing what human beings need to do, analyse each other’s behaviour and respond. I feel lost in a sea of faces. Waiting a few steps away from the entrance of the building, sadness engulfing my mind. It’s like every move, step, breath, leaves a mark behind that can be seen for only a second. This momentary imprint saps me of my strength.

A bird taps its tiny feet next to me, around me. Black bird, like my thoughts. It looks up, one eye meeting my gaze. “Can you really exorcise your demons by writing about them?”, it muses. How can I.

The bird leaves. Blackness stays. No class tonight. No room with faces and the danger of being looked at and recognised for what I feel inside.


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