She closes her eyes. Her eyeliner smudges. It covers her eyes, her lids, everything. It starts spreading. The tears running down have shaped her cheeks into a more rough line. Not moving, she looks asleep. She struggles inside and she is lost. That’s how it seems, at least. Her body can’t move. But her lips tremble. I see it. You see it. It’s from the crying within.

She knows she’ll have to wake up but now she’s trying to mold her hurt into a new heart. She is in a process now.

You look at her, you think, where is she from? I can’t tell… What is she doing?


She wakes up after days. Her eyes so painful. They’re swollen. She has a big hat she once bought from a vintage shop and she wants to use it today. It’s a black bow hat, so big for her tiny figure that it could cover her if she wants to play hide and seek with you in the house.

While she makes her way through the cluttered room, the dizziness makes her slip on one of the dresses. It’s as if for a second, she’s snapped out of the bad dream. As if.

She gets up, and grabs the hat from the closet. A crystal runs down her cheeks. She thought of that hat as a funeral hat and she never wore it. The way she feels now, choked up in frailty, she decides to wear it. She goes outside, gently pushes the metal door, the bright rays hit her in the face. Ah. She hides. She is afraid. She always loved the sun so much, but now after so much darkness, it burns her. Her skin is not used to it anymore, she’s been feeling like a desert. With no rain, her pain has sharpened and the wind rips her more apart. She takes the first steps outside.

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