#beginningofthejourney

For the past few days, a boy has been haunting me in my dream. His cries are deafening. His weepings are clamorous. Even his silent mourning inflicted excruciating pain deep down my body parts I doubt even exist. My brother told me the other night I writhed, all my body was drenched due to perspiration, and I murmured words he found extremely hard to decipher. I have often found myself waking up at midnight pleading for air of freedom, begging to let go this perplexedly strangling thoughts. My lips would have gone pale, and the water would bring no relief to my wounded mind. Days went by but the nights were fraught with inscrutable fears. Bed, which I once considered my haven, was no more cozy. Then one night, we made a deal. I would give him a new place to live on, and a comfy space where his cries would be echoed but only be heard by those who would dare to turn the pages. In return, he would emancipate me. That night, breathing in the aromas of coffee, listening to the music of tapering raindrops on the window and rustling leaves of the tree proudly standing outside in my parched garden, I weaved his words in my notebook with a pen that weigh too heavy to be moved and held within fingers. Outside, leaves snapped free from the tree. Just like that tree, I was relieved to let go what clung for so long. For the first time I experienced weightlessness. As I scratched, I soared high defying the gravity.