Invisible
Silence was all I had hoped for because it was too loud in my head all the time, the sound of sirens just never stopped.
Isn't it funny; how we all think we can escape tragedy, that things like that can't happen to us, that we are normal, I don't know how I once believed that.
Everyone is going through something, even if they belittle it, even if it isn't as big as others. We will all suffer from a deep mental scar at one point or another, some get it young, some get it later on, but we all get a taste from it.
When I got mine, it felt like a picture-perfect frame had fallen, and all of the sharpened glass edges scarred each person in that picture differently, just like each one of us coped differently, cause even if it's the same tragedy, it's not the same scar.
When that picture-perfect frame shattered, I didn't realize that all the family bonds and ties shattered with it, I didn't notice that their bleeding slowly but surely blurred me out of the photo, it made them cut me off, I didn't realize that my existence had to be shattered with it, I didn't know that the moment she was gone I was too, after all, who would want to look at the reminder of their biggest regret?
It's always hard to lose someone, but it gets even worse when the what-ifs hit, you get stuck in a whirlwind of thoughts that keep replaying over and over like a broken record that never stops, it haunts your every move and every breath, suddenly you are paralyzed, you can't move, you can't speak, you are panicking, then silence, maybe this is it, maybe I can finally leave, then loud noises blaring, screaming, and screeching, it's all happening all over again, the nightmares never end, nor does the sirens ever stop.
Everyone wants to find someone to blame. I just happened to be that someone, and I deserved it.
I wrote this about four years ago at midnight on my phone. I vividly remember this because I had promised myself then that this story, no matter what, would get an ending, become my first finished novel, even if it is the worst.
Now, I will be honest with you, I tried to achieve that, but the book was indefinitely put on hold. I had essentially failed younger me.
The problem was that the more I wrote, the more I hated my writing, the more subconscious I became, and I was turning into my number one hater. The one thing I couldn’t bring myself to hate was the prologue, that I wrote in the middle of the night without thinking why I was doing this, where it would go, or would someone like it.
I am trying to find that ease again, write without overthinking it, write to write, and because I love it.
So this is the start. I felt like it was only right to pay homage to the book I spent four years trying to write.
For now, I will be sharing more short stories collections or one-shots mainly.
I’d love to hear what part of this prologue made you pause. Let’s discuss it in the comments below.
Thank you for reading ♥
Until next time,
Much love, Mariam