Bustling noise of these huge number of unknown strangers that walk past me everyday feels amplified sometimes. Sometimes, they’re just inches away from me and yet I can not connect to them, I can not be a part. Some of the more familiar faces would come to me and play with me for a minute, just so I would please them. I beg to differ tonight. The ones of my kind that exist here can not not betray anyone but their shadows. So I walk all by myself and notice the night – full of grass that looks greener due to the diverging light coming from night lamps, and as I walk, ripples are still not letting the puddles sleep, and then I trudge to a place where I may not have this noise, and I may be able to feel that I am alone in the world and no one else exists, and I may be able to forget that these humans I see around me everyday have reasons to smile. I walk to the C-wing and it feels weird because merrier times had passed by at this place and today, I stutter in my walk. I reach the balcony and it lacks the smell it used to have, but no tears drop off my eyes – they’ve gone dry like of a refugee’s who is stuck without family at a place and can not end life. There is a breeze and the sound of the drops but salt alone can not be one’s food…. I quietly take refuge on the floor and aimlessly just breathe, counting time with every breath in and out, hoping it passes by soon. Suddenly, I feel itchy on my leg, and I realize mosquitos are leaving their mark on my body. I feel like a dead body and let them feast. When few minutes have passed by and my leg is more red than I have seen it ever, I accept that this place isn’t mine either, it’s mosquitoes’ territory now. So, I take a walk back…. Alone, wishing I would get malaria through all the bites, imagining that maybe then the ones who really care for me would come visit me, and if they do, I would get fine the day they get back somehow… Using all the power I can muster, I’ll get to my feet and use the rest of the day to run through the streets with them, and look at the clouds, and jump in the puddles and eat together and sleep under the shade of a tree in their presence. Their presence – the most peaceful place in the world. And if they do not come, I’ll die. Either way it’s a progress for me, and I hoped again for those mosquitoes to be malaria active before I took refuge some steps away on the floor, all wrapped and curled up, alone.
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