Cats Can’t Write Poetry

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Who

The hell am I 

Now that the serotonin has worn off?

What

Snapped and decided that

A noose is a form of self preservation

When 

Logic dictates that

It’s anything but. Welcome to Wonderland

Where

Anything is

Possible. Except for sanity, of course.

Why

Believe in a

Miracle in a place built on masochism?

And how

Can you believe

In something so idealistic for someone like me?

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz….

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Don’t feel like writing about Delirium. Because that involves remembering and remembering sucks.

…I’ll mention one thing. I dreamt about the time that Daniel and I were taking care of a mechanical infant called Mia. That happened last night, it seems like years ago. And I miss him more than anything now. I never realised how lonely I actually am before…

NOPE. Gonna talk about Reality now. NONONONONONONONONONONO, I’m DONE. NO MORE DELIRIUM. Today.

Anyway. Here are today’s news headlines.

Delamore is a lying manipulative bitch, and there is a legitimate reason for thinking this. I’m not entirely delusional. Anymore. I’ll go into more detail later.

Exams are next week. Tuesday, English at 12:30. Thursday, Maths at 8:30. Friday, Religion at 8:30. And then I’m DONE. And Flash and I are going to go out on Tuesday and get wasted….meaning we’re gonna go on a junk food spree instead of actually doing something productive.

Ball gown is nearly finished. And it looks good. Not on me though, I never like how I look. Shaddup. There’s still the lining to attach and panel to lace with actual lace, but so far, it looks wearable, though it’ll take Brownie to hold me at gunpoint before I’ll convince myself to put it on and wear it to the school ball. Which is something I can see her doing.

That’s another thing. I don’t want to die. Which is good, I think. And a change of pace, considering things.

I’m probably going to go to TAFE instead of uni. Or at least, I’ll go to TAFE first. I’m not taking a WACE pathway, so I can’t get into uni without doing a bridging course first. And apparently TAFE pathways will involve more activities actually related to work. Not that I actually know what I want to do with my life. For homework, I was giving a big book to look through and find things. So that’ll be fun.

Modelling is going okay at the moment. Next photoshoot is Sunday, where I have to be fire. Not allowed to set things on fire though, as it’s fire ban season. Not to mention I physically can’t anymore. Believe me, I’ve tried.

I’ve nearly finished Year 11. Never thought I’d make it this far. Maybe I can keep going until I’m no longer plagued by this illness, which has been with me ever since I was very small. And then I’ll be free.

There’s nothing sweeter in this world than freedom.

The Drawer

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“Let me out!” I’m screaming at the door, shaking it open.

There’s no response, but I refuse to let up. “Daniel, I swear to god, if you don’t let me out now, you’re going to be beheaded.”

“What, again? And no, you need to recuperate, and I don’t trust you wandering the castle by yourself.”

“I feel fine!” I object.

“Cat.” Daniel’s voice was tired. “Your head was cut off.”

“Don’t remind me,” I warn him. “I still want revenge for your sloppy stitching.”

“Please Cat, it’s only for one more day. You’re still unwell, just lie down. Your brain has been through a lot.”

“Fine.” I hear him walk away from the door, and I throw myself onto the bed in a rage. “Fuck!” I scream into a pillow. I am such a teenager, I think to myself. I hate it.

At some point, I must’ve fallen asleep. It’s strange…it’s more peaceful falling asleep here than in Reality somehow. Dreaming in the dream…someone should make that the title of a song. Or a book. Either way, I wake up under the covers of Daniel’s bed. It’s warm and it smells like him, like the candles on his desk.

From the bed, I can see it in the corner of the room. Not much care has gone into making it. I wonder why Daniel doesn’t get splinters. Maybe he does, but he doesn’t show it. I wish I could do that.

I get out, and I realise my clothes have been changed. The fabric is so smooth it feels like water on my skin, and in a moment, I’m lost in the sensation.

Then my mind snaps back to the present, and I’m wondering who the hell changed my clothes. It’s only a couple of seconds of considering the potential culprits before I decide that I really do not want to know.

So I push away the uneasy thoughts of Daniel or some stranger taking off my clothes while I slept, and tread towards the desk. It’s like my desk in Reality; completely cluttered with objects. A stack of papers are pushed into a discreet corner, in a language I can’t really discern. The candles have gone out, but the sweet, warm smell of the wax remains.

What catches my eye are the books. Books are everywhere, and some are even in English. One of them reads Grimm’s Fairy Tales, with a ornamental knife stuck in as a bookmark. I smile at the thought of Daniel reading this to his goddaughter. It feels like the sort of thing he’d do.

There are cups stacked up in a tower, almost reaching the ceiling. God, Daniel’s worse than me when it comes to cleaning. The cups are dainty and pretty, and yet I know that he would’ve just thrown the cups onto the tower, higher and higher.

Then I check the top drawer and I find the pictures.

It is done in black ink on a browning piece of parchment. This is no doodle, this has been done with care and love. It seems like it’s Kaya herself who is staring back at me, with her scars and haunting eyes.

There are more. Ray is there, drawn in one of the trees she climbs. A young woman, though not as young as me, stares out at me with dead eyes, her face lined with sadness, almost as prominent as her tattoos. I recognise another woman, another girl I saw die, long ago. She grins tauntingly, as if she knows what hell I went through to find what had happened. I suppose in the end, it was worth it. If only a slight bit.

Then I find me. It’s been drawn from behind, but only I have a birthmark and five red letters on my left hand. When I pick the drawing up, a key falls to my feet. I just stare at it for a moment, before picking it up and trying it in the bottom drawer.

It fits perfectly. But I’m reluctant to see what’s inside. What could be so horrible that it would need to be locked? Do I want to know what Daniel needs to hide? I shake my head. I don’t want Daniel to join the number of enemies in Delirium, anyone but Daniel. And yet, there’s a tiny voice in the back of my head reminding me that it would be just as dangerous to not know Daniel’s motives.

So I look.

Another drawing. Just a single drawing.

Daniel’s arms are around me, his face glowing with a serenity I haven’t really seen before in life. And I’m happy. I see myself and I know that I am truly happy in this picture, as if this were where I belonged in this world. This drawing of me has a cheeky but shy look on her face, and she rests comfortably against Daniel.

I close the drawer immediately, my head screaming out, What is going on?! Something has happened. I don’t know what, but I know deep down that something important has happened to me.

Then I see a reflection in the window, and I spin around with a snarl on my lips and my knife at the ready. “Who are you?” I growl.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Object