Scalding
by D
Scalding. When you come from the perpetually cold “land of cool breeze”, that’s what this feels like. Scalding heat.
Over the years, I have questioned many times my pursuit of this biology degree, but never as seriously as now. The heat is immense, inescapable, all-consuming, terrible. I can barely sleep or think and yet I am supposed to function like a regular person – attend classes and do my work and what not.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I stare at the ceiling and try to get lost in the pattern to forget the many things that plague me. To try and forget that I feel directionless, meaningless and worst of all, hot. I stare for two, maybe three hours before I coax my body out of that comfortable position and the uncomfortable thoughts. A series of low growls draws my attention from the intricate brocade pattern on the ceiling to my midsection. My stomach has found her voice and I growl back in annoyance. I should probably feed her, though I don’t particularly crave anything or feel hungry at all.
My kitchen is mostly empty, save for a few uni essentials – rice, spaghetti, instant noodles, garri, beans. I don’t want any of them; nothing is appealing here. I crouch down and lean against my fridge, fully aware of the fact that I am definitely not going to eat anything and mentally tell my stomach that she has to be okay with that fact or go find another body to dwell in. I am also fully aware that I have found myself back in a cycle which I swore I would get out of in the New Year. “What kind of person forgets to eat?” I hear that question a lot. Though I don’t know if it is a case of forgetting or simply not having the zeal or desire to.
There is a knock on my door. A knock which turns into incessant banging.
“Stupid girl, it’s me, open this shit up before I bust it down!” A threat? Sounds like it. I’d be scared if I wasn’t hearing those words in best friends’ voice; I’d recognize it anywhere. I slide towards the door because my body is neither willing nor strong enough to lift itself off of the ground. I open the door and there she is, smiling at me with bags of food in hand. I feel the dread in me rise, now I definitely have to eat.
Editor’s Note:
Oh, so eloquent, and also so very exhausted. D empathizes with those of us who can’t be bothered with life’s irritating monotony. And wouldn’t it all be so much less mundane with a chip on your shoulder?
We meet characters who feel like siblings, and an MC who is the crabby 70-year-old man in a teen’s body we all relate to on some level. D takes us through lived experiences without so much as a “hello.” It’s a shitshow, but that’s life for you.
You can’t help but want to get to know these characters more.