Movements of the Mind

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    It’s a colorful darkness. Pitch black with lights flashing everywhere and fireworks. But exploding with words — some that I want to hear and some that I don’t. They’re screaming so loudly my ears ring, but I can still detect the whispers in the background, smug with their ability to trap me. Playing out conversations I’ll never have with people that I’ll never see again, but who I can see so clearly now I could almost touch them. I’m angry that I’m here. In this room, in this house, on this street, in this country, on the Earth. I’m angry that I’m angry. Why should I be? If they don’t care, then I shouldn’t either, right?

    But I do.

    It’s numbing. I may never move again. If I could I would’ve. I would’ve gone out and walked and walked and walked for hours on end until I feel my legs giving way. That helps, sometimes. Sometimes it doesn’t, but hey it’s worth a shot. I look around, and everything’s scary. The familiar faces I see in the pictures on my wall are sneering at me, laughing at my attempt at being some sort of a pathetic excuse for a human being. I let them; I don’t care what anyone thinks of me.

    But I do.

    If history repeats itself, then tomorrow will be like today, just like how today was like yesterday. I can’t blame anyone; it’s my fault. My mind, my body, my soul. An organized mess. Everything put in its place, but come close enough and it’s dusty. Old and out of order. Something that people keep around because they’re too lazy to throw it out. They’ve tried to fix it, but it just won’t work, so they’ve given up and stored it in the back closet. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. This wasn’t part of the plan. I crave for what I can’t have, so I tell myself I don’t want it.

    But I do.

    A sliver of consciousness. It’s been four hours. I rub the palm of my hand against my knee to remind myself of my existence, but it’s no use. I could be dreaming after all. Maybe I want to be dreaming. Maybe I want to wake up and realize that this was all a nightmare. Then I wait. It’s only a couple more hours until more movements of the mind.

     

     

     

    aishaAishah Alattas is a part-time human and a full-time chocolate eater and platypus enthusiast. She has moved around the world too many times to know where she is from, but she feels the closest to Dubai. She is currently studying in London and will probably be somewhere else next year.

    Aishah Alattas
    … is a contributing guest author for Germ, which means the following criteria (and then some) have been met: possessor of a fresh, original voice; creator of fresh, original content; genius storyteller; superlative speller; fantastic dancer; expert joke teller; handy with a toolbox; brilliant at parties; loves us as much as we love them.

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