There lay the aspirin fiddled between my fingers like I'd twirl pennies. I decided I had enough after the fourth pill, even though I knew it wasn't. I just slammed my face onto the pillow and sobbed myself to sleep.

I prayed I wouldn't wake up.
I prayed those four pills were enough.
They weren't.

I woke up in a haze of my parents leaving for someplace in a hurry. "Someone is dead", they said. I'd grown used to it.
Then there was my kitten and me sprawled on the flower-patterned bedsheet with those brown splotches of blood.
Suddenly it all came crashing down and I started crying. I could not breathe, or rather, I was breathing too fast. Short gasps of air that tore at my windpipe. I felt light. Too light. I felt I was going to fall, yet I felt I was going to float. I wanted to sink into the bed, suffocate myself in the mattress.

My cat, Pascal (I should probably change that name), was concerned, I think. It was slowly inching towards me with its pupils gone black and big and starry. Breadloafed itself near my lap. Booped me with its nose. I just glanced at it, and mouthed out one pathetic little, "...Pascal".

That was when the screaming started.
It was loud, piercing, slashed through the silent air that once chimed of ticking clocks and cat chirps. Pascal jumped and ran off, stood near the door and just stared at me with those big, starry eyes.

It took me a while to register the screaming was coming from me.
I muffled myself with a pillow and I screamed till it hurt and I still feel a pit of pain in my throat when I swallow. I tossed my head back every now and then to breathe and I could see Pascal inching closer in those small gaps when I'd desperately try to force the air beyond my throat. I don't know how long I was screaming.
All I know is, at some point, I collapsed in a pathetic heap of exhaustion and sleepiness. I regretted not taking more of that damn aspirin.

When I woke up, it felt... surreal. Like I was... hollow. Something inside me was gone.
I was not screaming anymore. I didn't care for the aspirin. I didn't feel the pain. I just stared at the ceiling fan and thought of a new name for Pascal. I also considered somehow getting a rope.

I glanced through photographs of some person. Listened through their voice messages. I don't know why, maybe I was *trying* to torture myself. But then I had an epiphany.

Those eyes I found heaven in were just another set of normal eyes.
The skin I deemed porcelain was plain to the point of blandness.
The voice I so adored was the kind of voice you can't even recognize after a listen.
The person who meant the world to me, the person whom I considered family, the person to whom I said, "I love you"...
That person was so... ordinary.
Why did I love them anyways?

I liked that epiphany.

My parents came home late. I hadn't had breakfast or lunch. I was hungry, but I just... didn't care. The pangs subside soon anyways. I took my mother's phone to scroll through it, maybe chat with my bestie. It was then that I saw who had died earlier that day.

It was my aunt.
She was amazing.
She was the kind of lady who was so cheerful, it got annoying.
Heart attack. Sudden.

I cried for a few minutes. I still felt hollow, but I didn't like it. I shut myself in my room, stifled myself with a pillow, and willed myself to scream.
I couldn't scream.
I tried, but, I just... couldn't.

Later, that person texted me, the one who was once so perfect to me. I should have been happy they were not leaving me. I should have. But I didn't care anymore. I wanted them to stay, yes, but... only because I knew it was essential to my survival, and only because I revere the past, no matter how scarring.

I had a stage in my life when, if someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I'd say, "I wanna be an astronaut!"
Even though I knew being an astronaut was impossible, even though I had no interest in it, I said it, because I wanted to be an astronaut when I was younger and claiming otherwise would be a betrayal to my past.

This was a similar stage.
I remember the days I'd actually care, and I wanted to keep them close out of respect for those days.

I did call them ordinary. I felt they had the right to know.

I cuddled with Pascal later, I always kiss it and tell it, "I love you", but I couldn't bring myself to say that because I felt nothing towards it. Maybe Pascal could sense that, it was acting more affectionate than usual.
I went to feed the stray dogs, I hadn't done that in ages. I smiled, I guess, but it was more of a formality.
I bought my mother a soft drink. I cooked her dinner she didn't eat. I didn't know what to do apart from that. She'd lost her little sister, her dear friend.
I was obedient today. I didn't fuss like I usually do for housework. I should be like that more often.

I feel like I'm not "me". But I think that's a good thing. I like this. I was too... toxic. Messed up. Bad. This is better. I am a bit blunt, yes, but a bit more practice and I'll be able to pretend I can "feel".

I don't know what has happened to me. Why I'm so... hollow. All I know is, I've felt the worst pain in my life.

I really should have taken more of that aspirin.

(Update: I changed my cat's name to Shivani.)
© Alter Ego