Christmas in the Cave

My cough isn't getting any better.

I've been forgetting things and people far too easily. All I have left are just some memories, blurred and vague. Memories of people- those that look pretty familiar and whole but if you zoom in on them, you'll see you can't remember them at all. Maybe those are the memories to keep at a distance and never try remembering.

My cough isn't anything big. It just comes in small bits and my throat isn't that dry either. It just makes me feel like I'm choking. Choking for air. Like there's not enough, simply not enough air. Like someone's squeezing my throat and only allowing bits of air to enter and I can't control it. I try, holding my breath and not cough, but it just suffocates me.

Right now, I'm in the Christmas mood. Listening to Andrea Bocelli is lovely. He has such a nice voice and the Christmas carols he sings are all so soothing and relaxing, so homey and happy. So peaceful. I'm almost expecting it to snow, especially after listening to White Christmas by him. Here, in the silence of the night (with only the sound of my choking for air), I feel so comforted. Yet as I gasp and choke for air, my heart isn't thrumming wildly. It's just reduced to a warm, slow beat. It's as though I have conquered death (what a thing to say, I know.) and my physical self is decaying, but my soul is calmed and at ease.


I've been drinking green tea. It's bitter, but fragrant. It also warms my tummy.

I'm turning extremely nocturnal, and I think it's the peacefulness of the night that's luring me. I'm not tired. I'm just extremely peaceful, satisfied and happy. Happy to be away from people.

I'm also worried- well, not quite, seeing as I'm quite composed, my soul, at least. I've sunken into this holiday far deeper than the others. It's like all my friends have faded into the background. Like they are there, but they don't actually matter. Right now, I'm prepared for school. Maybe not quite, but the main gist is there. I've also grown terribly intolerant to people. I'm okay with my friends, because I know they're not quite human (potatoes, aliens, tomatoes, the whole lot), but when it comes to people, I dislike having to acknowledge their presence. This is bad. I'm reverting to my natural state- the hermit crab.

But they're all fading away. Like they do exist, but they don't. It's complicated.

The shooting in Connecticut. It reminded me of Faye-Anne. It's pretty dangerous there. And people who go killing little children. Why? I don't understand. Nobody does. Your thoughts are individual, but they're pretty much similar to everyone's, the way we live, in our own cultured society (or uncultured, but our thinking always grow from the same seed our parents or guardians plant in our heads). Anyway. I think we're pretty lucky to be alive, right now. That although we have a few bad people or some sick thoughts going viral in people's minds, humanity is good. Humanity is naturally good. And there are people who believe. These awful murders keep cropping up, but this one is much more shocking, like the other school shootings, because these were young children. Extremely young children.

Can you imagine? Hoping your mom will come, but instead being locked in closets or classrooms and waiting in the darkness, fear in the air while your young mind is in a whirl, worried, unsure. And then they tell you you've got to keep quiet, or you'll get shot. And suddenly you remember your mom, how you stole the last cookie from your sister, your dad who always hugs you when he reaches home. You want all of that. You don't want this mess. You don't want to die. You want to be home.

That's horrible. That's cruel.

I'm working on a play and I'm undecided on the plot and everything. I keep missing things out so the best way is to write it all on paper and get to know the characters like they're real. I've created the characters from the little traits of my friends. And while writing, I feel really hypocritical.

"Jack Frost nipping at your nose."

I don't live in a country with four seasons, so I don't exactly know what it's like to feel snow. It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? How people in countries far away from the equator wish they could live in a place with stable weather conditions while people in countries near the equator wish for snow and the four seasons. I know how terrible snow can be, snowstorms and such.

I just wish Santa visited. Or at least, that I believed in him. I don't recall believing in many fictional myths. I just took them as fake. I don't remember ever having time for them. My childhood was pretty practical. I guess. Since we don't have a chimney -laughs-

Typing out the logistics for my mom and she says that it's what adults do when they work in offices.
I don't like this.
Although I've gotten the hang of it, I don't want to do this every day.

[irrelevant scientific facts: typing will burn around 29 calories per hour and the letter 'e' is the most typed letter of the alphabet and as you press the spacebar, 600000 people around the world are, too]

It must be boring.

Sigh.

Let the world melt and burn. But always, keep believing in humanity.