I am.I am.I am.

It's your birthday, right?

Yes.Wish me.

Let me tell you a secret.

What secret?

I tried aborting you.You were not desired.I took medicines for that.

Say me you are making fun of me.

I am not.

This is cruel, mama!

*Silence*

The sense of not-desired has always accompanied me.This is the main reason that I turn myself cold and rude towards those who show affection and love.I have a strange kind of fear that one day, I'll be alone and nobody would care for me.So, I strangle every attachment to death before it can achieve the power to abandon me because "you-were-not-desired" sounds far better in "I-don't-give-a-damn"

You should tell me what is wrong with you?

I am fine.

This is only what you make yourself believe.

I need to be alone.

Zainab?

No.

No?

I am leaving then.

Go.

*Silence*

I let her go.She told me that she can "fix me" but I let her go.I feel comfortable in my own imaginative world.I have tried making friends there but they, too, faded sooner or later.I feel happy staying alone but I think about all of them.Those, who tried making me happy and I pushed them in the darkness.Now, they are nowhere to be found.

Sometimes, I feel I am Sylvia Plath kind of girl.Always sad and yet always smiling.I am not feeling well today, reader.I am not well because I am having nightmares, again.Every time I go to sleep, I get really bad nightmares.Should I take sedatives again? 

The first time, when I felt like this,  was the time I started crying.I cried hard at that moment.It brought me no good because I felt more depressed.The second time, I tried dancing.I did something foolish that I cannot tell but it was a foolish thing.After that, I never cried.Now, I do more foolish and childish things when I am depressed.Today, I am doing nothing.I am a perfect Nietzsche's nihilism.

I am doing nothing but watching myself in the mirror.

Am I beautiful?

No.

Say me yes.

No.

You are harsh.

Remember what that woman told you once?

Yes.

*Giggles*

Yes.I remember what she said.She said I may not be beautiful but I am the ugly one.That was the first time, I wish to see someone dying in front me, and I wished to whisper in her ears, "tell me now if this is beautiful or not?"

Yes. I want some people to die in front of me.I want to see how helpless they could feel at that time.I have different things to tell them through whispering.Am I sick?

You are beautiful.

Don't tell me this.

You are strange.Girls feel happy by such compliments.

I feel filthy.

Yes, I feel filth and dirt around me when someone passes compliments to me.Tell me I am beautiful and I will hurt my face by slapping it.Tell me I am charming and I will torture myself.Such evil resides in me.

These are the moments when I feel sorry for feeling.I feel disgusted that I have felt for someone who deserves better than me.I take pity on the man who will have me.Such shame would I be.

I don't want to sleep tonight.I am scared.I am feeling down and insecure.I need to do something to avoid sleep.I have to tell those demons under my head that I exist and I am.I am.I am.

Love.