A very talented friend of mine, Mustafa, took this photo below on the proviso that I write a story to accompany the image. Here is the image, here is the story.
Murderer of Calm
"It's a new dawn, it's a new age, it's a new life for me..."
She can have a million thoughts in a millisecond, that's the only thing she knows for sure.
She hears those lyrics not without irony, blaring through the headphones as if the higher and louder the volume the more unreal the world around her becomes. Disassociation and derealisation are the only things that actually feel tangible right now.
It can't be drowned though, the world, that is. The more she tries, and she's tried, the more impossible the task becomes. So if drowning is too drastic an option she'll happily settle for letting it fall silent, albeit momentarily.
She looks at her hands, delicate but not frail; strong without being overbearing. These hands, the very hands that couldn't keep her children alive. All those university degrees, all those achievements, both personal and professional amount to nothing when the growing life inside you dies. Twice.
The shame she feels is unbelievable, if you were to tell her it's not her fault, that sometimes these things happen; she would shut you down with a reminder that the common denominator in both her failed pregnancies has been her body.
She feels like a murderer but she certainly is not that. Murder requires premeditation and intention. Both characteristics lacking here. It's not as if her body committed manslaughter or any sort of crime of any kind whatsoever. How then to describe a miscarriage? How to give voice to the dead, one recent and one not so much? How to put into words that her body couldn't keep two children alive?
She's a murderer of calm.
Her ability to think a million thoughts in no time whatsoever has served her well, until now. She's tired, she runs circles in her own mind and for no observable benefit. Maybe she's the only person alive that can think a trillion thoughts per second.
She's murdering her own calm.
"... And I'm feeling good"