Moment of Weakness
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Day 65
Dear Diary,
It's my birthday today.
At least, that's what it says underneath my picture.
I'm nineteen today.
Lie.
Or is it?
Soldats gave me this identity.
Why would they hide my age?
Why would they change my birth date?
Or do they withhold information out of hand, simply because it is their way.
It doesn't matter.
A birthday means nothing to me.
Another year, another "one" added to my age.
I don't care.
It is a special day for me, for all the wrong reasons.
I have nothing to celebrate.
No friends or family to celebrate with.
Is there anyone at all who's happy that I was born?
Mireille?
I took a walk today.
Up the train tracks, to where they cross the highway.
I sat on the rail overpass, above the road, and watched the cars go by.
I thought of jumping.
Just taking a dive, and ending it all.
Fifteen meters to the road.
If the fall doesn't kill me, there are always the cars.
I stand on my toes.
Hands gripping the railing, ready to fling myself over.
Pause.
Why? I wonder.
Why jump?
Why not?
Hesitation.
Fear never stopped me.
Danger never stopped me.
Pain never stopped me.
Why now?
I have always been a killer.
Just one more death, and I will have release.
But my legs do not obey.
Fingers tighten their hold.
Arms lock up, goose bumps rising against the chill of the wind.
I see your face.
I see you in the stars.
In the clouds.
In the moon.
I see you in the headlight of the approaching train.
I see you crying at my grave.
An unmarked stone for and unremarkable girl.
I dare to hope that you will remember me.
Dare to hope that you will visit me.
Dare to hope that there is a better place, even for someone like you and I.
I step away from the abyss.
I can't do this.
I want to go on hoping.
I want to go on believing.
I want to go on...
If only to see you.
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Kirika closed her notebook as the sound of the train faded into the distance. She stood slowly, the acrid taste of fear working its way into her mouth. Fingers reached for the nearby railing, fearing that her mind would lose its will once again.
Below her, an assortment of gleaming motorized insects buzzed by indifferently. The sight of the vehicles shook her profoundly. She had been so close to the edge. Her hand clutched ever so tightly, nails digging little curved marks into her palm. There was no pain, only numbness. Kirika screamed. It was a loud, primal scream. An angst-ridden wail that fell short against the roar of engines.
She looked around, suddenly self-conscious. She dropped away from the railing, staggering back a few steps. Adrenaline coursed freely in her veins. A metallic smell from the recently used train tracks assaulted her nose, abruptly dispelling her trance. She spun, seeming dazed or confused, but eerily ended up facing the the road again..
Carefully, Kirika gathered up the diary she had dropped at her feet. Rain began falling softly, water from the sky mingling with that from her eyes.
"Mireille," she whispered into the drizzle, "please be stronger than I am."
* * * * *
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Day 65
Dear Diary,
It's my birthday today.
At least, that's what it says underneath my picture.
I'm nineteen today.
Lie.
Or is it?
Soldats gave me this identity.
Why would they hide my age?
Why would they change my birth date?
Or do they withhold information out of hand, simply because it is their way.
It doesn't matter.
A birthday means nothing to me.
Another year, another "one" added to my age.
I don't care.
It is a special day for me, for all the wrong reasons.
I have nothing to celebrate.
No friends or family to celebrate with.
Is there anyone at all who's happy that I was born?
Mireille?
I took a walk today.
Up the train tracks, to where they cross the highway.
I sat on the rail overpass, above the road, and watched the cars go by.
I thought of jumping.
Just taking a dive, and ending it all.
Fifteen meters to the road.
If the fall doesn't kill me, there are always the cars.
I stand on my toes.
Hands gripping the railing, ready to fling myself over.
Pause.
Why? I wonder.
Why jump?
Why not?
Hesitation.
Fear never stopped me.
Danger never stopped me.
Pain never stopped me.
Why now?
I have always been a killer.
Just one more death, and I will have release.
But my legs do not obey.
Fingers tighten their hold.
Arms lock up, goose bumps rising against the chill of the wind.
I see your face.
I see you in the stars.
In the clouds.
In the moon.
I see you in the headlight of the approaching train.
I see you crying at my grave.
An unmarked stone for and unremarkable girl.
I dare to hope that you will remember me.
Dare to hope that you will visit me.
Dare to hope that there is a better place, even for someone like you and I.
I step away from the abyss.
I can't do this.
I want to go on hoping.
I want to go on believing.
I want to go on...
If only to see you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kirika closed her notebook as the sound of the train faded into the distance. She stood slowly, the acrid taste of fear working its way into her mouth. Fingers reached for the nearby railing, fearing that her mind would lose its will once again.
Below her, an assortment of gleaming motorized insects buzzed by indifferently. The sight of the vehicles shook her profoundly. She had been so close to the edge. Her hand clutched ever so tightly, nails digging little curved marks into her palm. There was no pain, only numbness. Kirika screamed. It was a loud, primal scream. An angst-ridden wail that fell short against the roar of engines.
She looked around, suddenly self-conscious. She dropped away from the railing, staggering back a few steps. Adrenaline coursed freely in her veins. A metallic smell from the recently used train tracks assaulted her nose, abruptly dispelling her trance. She spun, seeming dazed or confused, but eerily ended up facing the the road again..
Carefully, Kirika gathered up the diary she had dropped at her feet. Rain began falling softly, water from the sky mingling with that from her eyes.
"Mireille," she whispered into the drizzle, "please be stronger than I am."
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