Esraa

I feel unwell, but the hardest part is the numbness. My mind feels muffled, as though every thought is unfinished. I can’t tell you exactly what I feel, only that somewhere beneath the numbness lies something that looks like sadness, despair, disappointment and pain. They’re no longer sharp enough to identify, only distant silhouettes. It’s unsettling to know something hurts without being able to understand or explain it.

I feel like my life is on a countdown again. I’m not really living, I’m watching from the outside, as if I’m a spectator to my own existence. Like an hourglass, all I can see is the sand slipping through it, and I am waiting for it to run out. Waiting for the inevitable.

I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death.