Impatient Solitude
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Day 92
Dear Diary,
Do you believe in God?
I don't.
Do you believe in fate?
I don't know.
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.
Someitmes I wonder why I even care.
Sometimes I wake up screaming, the question branded in my mind.
Silence.
Darkness greets.
The shadows elude me.
In the dead of night, I find myself praying to a God who does not answer.
Praying?
I have never been faithful.
I have never had cause to be faithful.
It is not a prayer.
It is simply a wish.
May the powers that be grant me this one small favor...
I don't know how much longer I can wait.
Patience ebbs.
Every day, the most mundane tasks become more frustrating.
Just a few months ago, I was cooking.
Now I just order out, not even bothering to leave.
I used to be neater, more meticulous.
Now the apartment is a mess.
I find I don't care.
I care only enough to take note of it, without doing anything about it.
Somedays I'm afraid to get out of bed.
What if you return today?
What if you're nothing like when you left?
When I left.
What if you don't remember me?
What if you never come back?
Please do, Mireille.
If you don't, I'll feel guilty.
And then, forgiveness or not, I truly will wish that you'd shot me.
Noir.
A name for two.
Did you ever wonder why?
I think I know now.
Murder is a personal act, something best dealt one on one.
Chloe would have agreed.
But the burden is too great for one to bear.
We survived.
Barely.
Chloe was desperately anguished.
She was alone.
She reached out to us.
To me...
Because there was no one else.
Altena never understood.
Poor Chloe.
Poor Mireille.
I miss you.
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Kirika sighed. She glanced at the slice of pizza hanging limp in her left hand. One bite was gone from the tip. Just one. Eating and writing don't go together, she concluded. Not that her lack of appetite was solely the fault of her diary. She took one more bite. The pizza had turned cold. Dejectedly, she threw the slice back into the box and headed to the bedroom. The bed was soft. It did not comfort her. She lay on her back, hands behind her head, staring blankly at the smooth, unbroken ceiling. She did not sleep.
Unknowingly, she adopted the trademark look of detachment that had masked her so long ago. Eyes impassive, lips drawn tight into a line of utter neutrality. Her breathing slowed as she drifted off into her thoughts. To say that she was "thinking", was an understatement. Kirika was lost in her mind, reflecting on the past, pondering her existence, contemplating the vagaries of life. Her musings unerringly turned to Mireille.
Eventually, sunbeams found their way onto the bed. Morning beckoned. Birds chirped outside the window. Warm summer breezes brought the smell of fresh bread from the bakeries on the street below.
Kirika paid no heed to any of it.
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Day 92
Dear Diary,
Do you believe in God?
I don't.
Do you believe in fate?
I don't know.
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.
Someitmes I wonder why I even care.
Sometimes I wake up screaming, the question branded in my mind.
Silence.
Darkness greets.
The shadows elude me.
In the dead of night, I find myself praying to a God who does not answer.
Praying?
I have never been faithful.
I have never had cause to be faithful.
It is not a prayer.
It is simply a wish.
May the powers that be grant me this one small favor...
I don't know how much longer I can wait.
Patience ebbs.
Every day, the most mundane tasks become more frustrating.
Just a few months ago, I was cooking.
Now I just order out, not even bothering to leave.
I used to be neater, more meticulous.
Now the apartment is a mess.
I find I don't care.
I care only enough to take note of it, without doing anything about it.
Somedays I'm afraid to get out of bed.
What if you return today?
What if you're nothing like when you left?
When I left.
What if you don't remember me?
What if you never come back?
Please do, Mireille.
If you don't, I'll feel guilty.
And then, forgiveness or not, I truly will wish that you'd shot me.
Noir.
A name for two.
Did you ever wonder why?
I think I know now.
Murder is a personal act, something best dealt one on one.
Chloe would have agreed.
But the burden is too great for one to bear.
We survived.
Barely.
Chloe was desperately anguished.
She was alone.
She reached out to us.
To me...
Because there was no one else.
Altena never understood.
Poor Chloe.
Poor Mireille.
I miss you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kirika sighed. She glanced at the slice of pizza hanging limp in her left hand. One bite was gone from the tip. Just one. Eating and writing don't go together, she concluded. Not that her lack of appetite was solely the fault of her diary. She took one more bite. The pizza had turned cold. Dejectedly, she threw the slice back into the box and headed to the bedroom. The bed was soft. It did not comfort her. She lay on her back, hands behind her head, staring blankly at the smooth, unbroken ceiling. She did not sleep.
Unknowingly, she adopted the trademark look of detachment that had masked her so long ago. Eyes impassive, lips drawn tight into a line of utter neutrality. Her breathing slowed as she drifted off into her thoughts. To say that she was "thinking", was an understatement. Kirika was lost in her mind, reflecting on the past, pondering her existence, contemplating the vagaries of life. Her musings unerringly turned to Mireille.
Eventually, sunbeams found their way onto the bed. Morning beckoned. Birds chirped outside the window. Warm summer breezes brought the smell of fresh bread from the bakeries on the street below.
Kirika paid no heed to any of it.
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