She killed my birds!

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

She goes out for a drive. An hour and a half of sleep did not allow her to sleep off any of her thoughts. She drives with her windows down, hoping some of her thoughts would fly out the window. She wonders how her thoughts would mark the road if they were to fly out. She smiles at the thought of streaking the roads with fiery magenta, serene turquoise, and hopeful violet.

She looks down at her white pants and white shirt. She wishes her life could be that white. It is pure, but it is not blank nor simple. Far from it. She glances at her puffy eyes in the rearview mirror. She knows she looks drained. Is there anything she can do about it? Probably not.

She parks in the middle of nowhere. She is very lost, but she does not care. She steps out of the car and leans on it. There's a soft hot breeze blowing. Her shirt is caught in wisps of air. She looks down. Her feet, in white flip flops, seem ugly. There's nothing interesting to see. But what could be interesting anyway? She does not even know where she is. Ridiculous.

A few more minutes and she's back in the car. She does not know where to go. The windows are still down. Music plays, but the volume is three. She knows the music well. There is no need to increase the volume and have the whole world hear it. She starts the engine and takes a deep breath.

She drives aimlessly. She does not make an effort to look for clues on where she should go. She is out of credit. She does not even want to call anyone and ask for directions. She drives checking off thoughts in her mind, ending each one with a sense of closure. That way, there is more of a chance she can get some sleep when she gets home. If she gets home.

An hour later, she is singing along with the music that is playing: "Mr. Therapy Man how can I live on?" She is heading home, now, her body covered with a light shiny film of sweat. She knows where to go. She could not care less about her tear-streaked face or her crumpled shirt. Her family has already noticed that her life has shifted in a way.

She walks through the big door of where she lives. She wipes her face with her sleeves and puts on a sincere smile. She hugs her parents and playfully punches her brothers. Her parents ask her where she went. She looks up and says, "Nowhere, I was just around the corner the whole time." They exchange a look. They know she is lying, but they do not ask anymore questions. So, she heads upstairs.

She takes off the only pants that fit her perfectly after her weight loss and walks over to her special chair. What now? She picks up a book her friend has lent her. No, she is not in the mood for disturbing stories. She gets up and throws herself on her bed. She lies there with her eyes closed for a while. No sleep. She gets up again and signs in from the laptop. The only person she can talk to is online. But what does she say? She says nothing that has been on her mind for a long time now. She silences her thoughts and stays uncomfortable in her own skin. She ignores her restlessness and stares at and through the screen.

She shrugs every once in a while. As if she is shrugging off all her worries. And she takes a deep breath after she shrugs. As if she is cleansing her soul. And after that, she smiles. As if the world does not know what is behind her sincere smile. So, she laughs at herself. Not in pity, but in wonder.

.

---

.

And this made me angry.