regret #1

Diary entry

“Never end a conversation on a bad note” I see this quote everyday in some sorts of ways. In many stories the ending is the same tragedy, the other person dies. And the guilt and regret eats the surviving person alive. 

Survivor’s guilt, they call it. But I was not even in the same car when this happened.

Today is Sunday, a bright day. But my plan for today doesn’t include a minute of ‘bathing in the autumn sun’ or ‘ruffling in the park’ or even ‘looking out the window daydreaming’. I am strictly busy. I have exams and I cannot afford to slip any minutes now. “Your marks are in your hands. All the time. Our job is done and the rest 80% is yours to be done” the words of my statistics teacher echoes in my head. My brain is filling with dopamine, I love studying. It’s great about it people don’t get it. You learn new things and they test you on it. What’s so worrisome about it? 

It is so ironic that I think this yet I still have my heart palpitating at my study schedule. It’s just butterflies in your stomach says my brain feeding into my delusion. 

Today is a warm day. It has been raining a lot the past few days, I felt so cozy studying in my room, and I felt like the lofi girl with headphones on. This was how that day was too. It almost feels like déjà vu. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about my exams when I should be thinking of them. I should be paying respect and not go on about my day while they did that for me, not my words, my relatives’. They really hate it when someone is minding their own business. Besides would a dead person really want their loved ones to cry on that day, every year? For the rest of their lives? If it were me, yes, I would very much like that. But it’s not me so can’t make their decisions, amirite?

“You’re too calm, Maya”, he says, with that same judgmental expression but I can sense the care. He tries to mask it and give me ‘tough love’. “I’m too calm for a girl talking to her dead brother”, I chuckle, one with no humour. “I’m so fucked” I mumble. 

It’s been 5 years. Today 5 years ago, my parents died. And ya my brother too. I don’t remember the day very clearly; blame the ‘trauma blockage’ thing. We all planned to go somewhere but at the last minute I received homework from my college. I had no choice; or rather I did but chose to stay. My father got angry at my college, my mom sad and my brother, well actually he dgaf.

 “Hey! I gave plenty fuck. But good thing I didn’t show it, eh? You’re fine now.” My brother says over my shoulder. “So now I can’t even have fucking privacy?” I sneer. “Hey now now, don’t fight, kids”, my mom shouts from the other room. Who cares if you’re dead, the serial must go on. “Where’s dad?” I ask cautiously. “He went for a fly. He will be back soon. Don’t worry, I warned him sweetie.” Mom replies.

“So? Why did you stop? Continue.” My brother urges. 

This is all very confusing, I should’ve just told you from the start. But isn’t it kinda obvious? I’m schizophrenic. 

“AHAHA” we both break into laughter. 

Ok, ok. I used black magic.

Regret is something, something more than an emotion. It’s a lifestyle. You become addicted to it, it’s a drug. And when it’s combined with guilt, well say no more, it’s lethal and in my case, witchcraft.

Even while i'm typing this, His words echo in my brain. No not my brother’s. The guy from that famous book, ah what’s it called? Ah yes, Bible. The fallen angel, his nickname. I really thought there was one God, one religion. I mean that’s what we are fed, right? But actually, there is everyone. I was surprised that He came and not one from my religion. Honestly? I was offended, but ya. After hearing his offer, I waited a few days hoping Yamaraj may show up and be on my side. Couple of days went by and He came again, like a punctual landlord on the first of the month. I told him about my worry; he laughed in my face and said that Yama was busy so he took my case, his words, not mine. Wow.

My brother is still sitting in my room. I hope he leaves ugh. But he is not looking at my text. Good thing. I continue typing.

I had so many questions but like every human, I was lead by my emotions, or the lethal drug combo I told you about. I was desperate. I was so close to taking my own life but people around me told me I’m better than that. Seriously, they always checked on me, they’re the reason I’m not totally insane. Partly insane, yes but that’s my own doing.

“Now kid, don’t let my meat go stale. Tell me your decision by the weekend.” Before I could comprehend his first sentence, I looked at the calendar, it was Wednesday. Uff I had time. When I looked at Him again, there was no Him. He vanished, again. It must be great to be able to ghost people irl like that.

Well, obviously I accepted his offer. 3 souls for 15 years off my lifespan, 5 for each. It was a great deal, or so I thought. There are more implications than that.

1. I totally overlooked the chances that my lifespan itself didn’t have more than 15 years so basically, I could die any moment then. But that didn’t happen. 

2. Only I can see the souls and one more person, I can extend this opportunity to one more of my choosing. I decided to tuck that thought away.

3. The souls have ability to touch things for 2 hours a day. That’s when my mom cooks for me heehee.

4. The souls can’t eat, sleep or breathe. They are not alive. (I have their ashes with me)

5. They don’t know about the deal with the devil. They should never know it.

6. Only I can hear their voice.

7. They can walk through walls, fly too. (but when they access the “ability to touch” mode, they can’t do all that)

8. They can only go about 5 km radius from the home. (idk what would happen if they try to ‘fly’ beyond that, they never tried to. But they can come with me beyond the 5km. my brother abuses that power whenever he gets the feels and wants to give the beach a visit.)

That’s all I can think of for now. 

Thanks for listening to my vent.

I think he is gone now. The guy I called my brother is NOT my brother. He started his 2 hours now so can play games. I have some time while I think of how to get rid of the ghosts living in my house, haunting me. I can feel it. They’re not my parents either. Yes they look like them but it’s not them, I can feel it. The difference. The last time I mentioned something about them becoming a little different, they glared at me. Different than of my parents’. It’s fucking scary. They’re fucking ghosts. I’m living with ghosts, FU CKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

“Are you still writing?” he grumbles from outside. I flinch. I turn to my door in split second, sighing of relief after seeing it’s locked. “Nah, just talking with some friends. Why?” idek why I asked. “No reason.” He doesn’t leave; I can see his reflection through the gap. “Ok” I say with nonchalance. He is still here. 

I’m writing this in my blog hoping someone, ANYONE finds this. But not them. Please not them. Email me on mayayaya067@gmail.com 

I’m fucking scared. What should I do??

He is still standing there, wait there are more than 2 legs. 

The TV is still on but I can’t guarantee shit. I’m STRESSED. F-CKKKKKKKKK

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They’re gone. Uff. I played some music and 10 seconds later the shadow was gone. Now I need to upload this. 

I will try to update this by the earliest. Guys, have hope in me. Please I beg you. 

*uploaded*

The blog is now online.