Blurred Souls (Editing)

Chapter 21

The next day, we were informed to pack our belongings, except for few trips around the place, we never got to really see the historical place we came for. Not that I care.

Later that day, as I packed I couldn't help but remember sad life I'm returning back to, the taste of hatred, the cold eyes. Everything.

"Are you really that poor?" Choe had said as she stared at my bag.

"You know what Chloe, I don't exactly hate you, but if you were on fire and I had water, I'd drink it." I said sweetly as I contuined packing.

Although the expression on her face was one of fire it might merely have been at thought of death.

"I wish you'd died along with your mother," Her words stopped me right through the heart, as each second passed I couldn't help but imagine me murdering Chloe.

And that's one of the many things I dislike about Chloe, she knows I couldn't careless about anything, but when the topic includes I'd turn into a mad woman in less than one second.

My mum was just a sensitive topic. Whenever I'd remember her, I'd remember the things she's been through, and I probably have gotten this patience from her.

At some point in my life I was home schooled, before the sudden death of my mother, she'd always claimed she was teaching me at home because of the bronchial ailment and the need to protect me from the onslaught germs that occurs in the first couple of years at school.

I believed her, I thought I was special, but remembering those days made me realise how much of an idiot and naïve person I was.

This was all before her death.

Now consider those in actual destitution or physical suffering-this is an all-weather beatitude for gloom in general and fairly salutary day-time advice for everyone. But at three o'clock in the morning, a forgotten package has the same tragic importance as a death sentence, and the cure doesn't work-and in a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day.

But sometimes, you gotta pretend everything is okay. You gotta pretend that you're okay, you're having a very normal life, you're not depressed.

People often think depression is something easy, but in reality depression is the hardest between all diseases and sicknesses, it has no cure, it'll keep tapping you, it'll be part of you.

There is no point treating a depressed person as though she were just feeling sad, saying, 'There now, hang on, you'll get over it.' Sadness is more or less like a head cold- with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.

I felt a kind of inflated balloon in my chest, it was hard to breathe, but I tried masking my sudden change in mood by a sly smirk.

"You're as useful as an ashtray on a motorcycle."

Chloe looked up and gave a short, unhumerous laugh. "You're so funny, I'm dying."

I smirked as she left, shutting the door hard.

I lie in the bedroom with the curtains drawn and nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. I have done something wrong, something so huge I can't even see it, something that's drowning me. I am inadequate and stupid, without worth. I might as well be dead.

No, remember how little your mum would think of you, she believes in you -us, we are worth it, we are worth it.

I had an urge to scream 'which mum, I'm all alone,' but I kept my mouth shut.

* * * * *

It now night. The darkness consuming the place, we were now at the airport. A sudden flash of dèjá vu hit me.

As I began walking, a voice startled me, "Hey, Angel!"

I turned to face him with my jaw set, the air suddenly stood still, "What do you want?"

Alex just shrugged as he extended hus hand, handing me a picture. "You dropped this."

I started at the photo for a solid fifteen seconds, and quickly grabbed it. This picture was simple yet held so many memories, it was one of the few pictures that had left from my mum. It was much more expensive than gold itself. It was everything.

There came a time where I'd forgotten what my mum looked like, I was so angry at myself, how could I forget what my own mum looked like? I remember crying so much, but as I saw the picture, I imagined my mum telling me it's okay, murmuring soft words to me. But at the end of the day, it was all based on my stupid imagination.

Sometimes simple things can mean the world to you. The most simple things can bring the most happiness.
It is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all. But it's too late to realize that these simple things will forever be a part of you.

I was six that day, I remember that day like it was yesterday. It's a little funny now but not so funny then because of the look on my mum was disappointment. I remember her telling me we're going to the park, she was so sad that day. Being the little badass girl I was, I had told her I needed the toilet, claiming I was a big girl and shit. With a chuckle, she'd agreed, instead of going to the bathroom I'd ran away.

"Angel, are you okay?" Alex's voice interrupted my thoughts and I hurriedly swallowed a big gulp that burnt my throat going down.

"Yes, I'm okay."

Sometimes when I say I'm okay, I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight, and say 'I know you're not.'

* * **

When I had reached what I can call home, you'd expect a 'welcome home' party, well it was exactly the opposite.

Perhaps the coal dust would rub off on me and bring me luck. One could hope. Unfortunately luck was never on my side.

"Welcome to our home, Angel." Melissa said, as a sly smirk made its way onto her face, what attracted my attention was the ring that was perfectly placed on her hand.

What a very great surprise.

☆☆

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