tiredness.

Every time I feel down, I look at all the people who have been through the same things and manage to live 10 years more and will proceed to live and to fail continuously in the future, I think to myself, how weak must I be to not be able to get thru this stage of age?

But honestly, I just feel so… trapped. It’s like I almost lose patience for everybody. It seems that every word they say either upsets or triggers me. It’s just hard to explain this feeling. I don’t even know why I feel the way I’m feeling right now. It’s not that I am weak. I hate it when people say I’m weak or unstable or having illusions because I know I’m not. Maybe to them, what I struggled, have struggled, and am struggling with is as easy as eating a cake, it is nonsense, silly and unnecessary, but to me, every time I overcome a fear no matter how little, I grow as a whole and it is a success, a win to me (and I don’t want to say it’s a big or small win).

Why does everything in life have to end up in a comparison game? People compare with each other to see who is better than who, intellectually, physically, now mentally, and even religiously. They have to be prettier, smarter, stronger, healthier, more mentally stable, wiser, tougher, more special as a normal human being and as a spirit on earth. It is normal to compare the mundane lives with each other, now they compare the destiny, the so-called sacred fate that God or whatever divine spirit has made for them.
They
Are
Me.
Why am I like this?
Why do I try so hard to be special?
Why do I have to push myself to try hard while in reality, I don’t do anything, I just try in my mind?
Why does it have to be guilt-sick to relax, or should I say, let myself relax? Is being busy a legitimate excuse for not relaxing?
Is there any way I can both relax and achieve great success?

I honestly don’t think so.

I believe I’ve been wasting a lot of time of my life being unaware of. I want success, more than anything in this world. Success to me is yes, money, not as rich as a billionnaire but abundant so that I dont need to worry about finance; it is the self-satisfaction and pride when I look at myself and proudly say, “I’ve gone a long way to be who I am today”. It is the sense of maturity and bravery and wisdom when I am ready to face whatever life throws at me. I will stand tall, head high, and stand strong to welcome to storm.

They say the reason why people are getting more and more depressed and are highly likely to have depression these days than ever before is that they expect too much. And when they fail to fulfill their expectations, they fall into the perils and pitfalls of depression. But I don’t think my expectations are high because I am sure that I will make all of them come to fruition one day. Furthermore, I don’t think it is wrong to expect. But why is it so torturing and tiring?

I’ve been bad to myself.

30.10.2020

ở đâu – thế nào – dở dang

Có đôi khi tôi cảm giác rằng mình không thuộc về nơi này hay về thời đại này. Có lẽ tôi thuộc về một chiều không gian khác. Nhưng nếu bạn hỏi tôi rằng tôi nghĩ mình sẽ thuộc chính xác về nơi đâu thì tôi lại chẳng biết.

Bạn có hiểu cảm giác ấy không? Cảm giác cô đơn đến tận cùng khi ở cạnh bao người thân quen và xa lạ, nhưng lại vô cùng hạnh phúc như thể thời gian dừng lại khi bạn ở một mình? Cái cảm giác dù ai đối xử với bạn sao cũng được, bạn nghĩ, cứ tệ bạc với tôi đi, ruồng bỏ tôi đi, phản bội tôi đi, chẳng sao cả, vì cuối cùng chỉ có tôi với mình tôi, tôi đã quen một mình chống chọi rồi đó thôi. Thế nhưng rồi bạn lại không thể kiềm hãm được cảm giác muốn trả thù, khiến những người khiến bạn tổn thương trả giá gấp đôi. Rồi bạn lại muốn tự hủy hoại bản thân mình và nghĩ, có lẽ, bạn không nên tồn tại. Tồn tại làm chi khi sống là một gánh nặng cho bản thân và cho người khác, tồn tại làm chi khi bạn chỉ là một thứ đồ dự phòng xếp xó trong góc đợi ngày được dùng.

Tôi vẫn nghĩ trên đời này mọi thứ có vẻ cao cả hơn những gì chúng ta nhìn thấy rất nhiều. Sống trên đời nào chỉ có đi học, về nhà, kiếm tiền, kết hôn, sinh con và xuống mồ. Có lẽ những thứ đó là đích đến, mà cái tuyệt vời ở đời là quá trình đến những cái đích ấy. Vậy mà sao tôi vẫn cảm giác rằng có gì đó không đúng?

Tôi không thuộc về nơi này. Tôi chỉ muốn sống bình yên với mọi người xung quanh, đừng ai ganh ghét đố kỵ nhau hay lợi dụng nhau. Nhưng đồng thời tôi cũng muốn giá như ai đó ghét mình để tôi có thể chuyển hóa năng lượng giận dữ và uất ức thành động lực tiến lên.

Có đôi khi tôi nghĩ, không phải tự nhiên người ta cứ buồn mà không hiểu vì sao. Bạn có bao giờ nghĩ rằng biết đâu sở dĩ trong thâm tâm bạn có một khoảng trống là vì bạn đang chờ đợi một ai đó đến, một ai đó bạn đã từng quen từ kiếp trước? Hoặc có khi, đó là nỗi trống rỗng khi biết bạn mất đi một ai trong quá khứ xa xôi để rồi bạn cố gắng bù đắp cái lỗ hỏng ấy bằng việc dốc lòng dốc sức giúp bất kỳ ai tìm đến mình.

Tôi không chỉ cảm giác rằng mình chẳng thuộc nơi đây mà còn nghĩ rằng mình đã chai lì cảm xúc. Nếu ngày nhỏ tôi chỉ chăm chăm hỏi mọi người 10 vạn câu hỏi vì sao thì giờ đây lớn rồi, tôi lại hỏi 10 vạn câu hỏi thế nào? Thế nào là cố gắng hết mình? Tôi đã hết mình chưa? Thế nào là đau thấu tận tâm can? Tôi có biết đau lòng không? Thế nào là hạnh phúc? Tôi đã hạnh phúc chưa? Khi tôi khóc, tôi không cảm giác được mình đang buồn thế nhưng nước mắt không ngừng rơi. Khi tôi thật sự buồn, nước mắt tôi lại không thể nào rơi. Nó chỉ là một nỗi buồn man mác mà dai dẳng, đôi khi khiến bờ lưng tôi nặng trĩu, không muốn đứng thẳng cũng chẳng muốn ngẩng đầu, chẳng thể nghĩ thông cũng chẳng có sức sống. Trớ trêu thay, cảm giác ấy đến rất nhanh, rất thường xuyên và ở lại rất lâu. Giá như mà tôi trầm cảm hay có vấn đề tâm lý gì khác thật, có lẽ tôi sẽ bớt mặc cảm tội lỗi vì tiêu cực quá mức chịu đựng. Bạn biết không, sự tiêu cực của tôi giống như một cơn thèm đồ chiên mà tôi đã kiêng 2 năm nay. Thèm lắm, lại chẳng dám ăn, ăn một miếng thì sợ cơn nghiện lại nổi lên, kiềm không nổi. Rồi thế là mắt không thấy, tâm không phiền, đừng nghĩ về nó nữa sẽ không cảm giác được nữa đâu. Sự tiêu cực của tôi lại còn giống một con virus, luôn sẵn sàng vùng vẫy khỏi tầm kiểm soát của vật chủ để lây truyền dịch bệnh. Và lần đầu tiên tôi nhận ra con virus của mình đã biến đổi người xung quanh ra sao, tôi chợt tỉnh giấc, sợ hãi, và cảm thấy tội lỗi. Tôi học cách ngậm miệng và kiểm soát cái tay cái miệng và cái não của mình, hạn chế than vãn hay nói về bản thân quá mức vì sau cùng tôi sẽ than vãn và tiêu cực tiếp mà thôi. Cảm giác ấy thật ra rất mệt mỏi. Tâm hồn bạn là một mớ hỗn độn, nó quấy phá não bộ và não phải cầu xin nó hãy nói ra đi, rồi tâm hồn bảo nó cũng khát khao lắm chứ, mà nói thì ai nghe ai thấu? Nó cũng chẳng muốn tổn thương ai và cũng chẳng muốn ai đau lòng nó. Thế là não lại nói, ừ thôi vậy mình giữ riêng cho mình cái gì xấu xa nhất nhé.

Tôi nghĩ đời tôi là những câu chuyện dang dở và rời rạc. Những dòng cảm xúc dang dở, suy nghĩ dang dở, học hành dang dở, cuộc tình dang dở.

—- 1:31 am, Dec 17 —-

Cây đàn muôn điệu | Thế Lữ

Gởi cho Tứ Ly

Tôi là người bộ hành phiêu lãng
Đường trần gian xuôi ngược để vui chơi
Tìm cảm giác hay trong tiếng khóc, câu cười,
Trong lúc gian lao, trong giờ sung sướng,
Khi phấn đấu cũng như hồi mơ tưởng.
Tôi yêu đời cùng với cảnh lầm than,
Cảnh thương tâm, ghê gớm, hay dịu đàng.
Cảnh rực rỡ, ái ân hay dữ đội.

Anh dù bảo: tính tình tôi thay đổi,
Không chuyên tâm, không chủ nghĩa: nhưng cần chi?
Tôi chỉ là một khách tình si
Ham vẻ Đẹp có muôn hình, muôn thể.
Mượn lấy bút nàng Ly Tao tôi vẽ,
Và mượn cây đàn ngàn phím, tôi ca
Vẻ đẹp u trầm, đắm đuối, hay ngây thơ,
Cũng như vẻ Đẹp cao siêu, hùng tráng
Của non nước, của thi văn, tư tưởng.
Dáng yêu kiều tha thướt khách giai nhân;
Ánh tưng bừng linh hoạt nắng trời xuân;
Vẻ sầu muộn âm thầm ngày mưa gió;
Cảnh vĩ đại, sóng nghiêng trời, thác ngàn đổ;
Nét mong manh, thấp thoáng cánh hoa bay;
Cảnh cơ hàn nơi nước đọng bùn lầy;
Thú sán lạn mơ hồ trong ảo mộng;
Chí hăng hái đua ganh đời náo động:
Tôi đều yêu, đều kiếm, đều say mê.
Tôi sẵn lòng đau vì tiếng ai bi,
Và tôi cảm khái bởi những lời hăng hái.
Tôi ngợi ca với tiếng lòng phấn khởi,
Tôi thở than cùng thiếu nữ bâng khuâng,
Tôi véo von theo tiếng sáo lưng chừng,
Tôi yên ủi với tiếng chuông huyền diệu,
Với Nàng Thơ, tôi có đàn muôn điệu;
Với Nàng Thơ, tôi có bút muôn mầu:
Tôi muốn làm nhà nghệ sĩ nhiệm mầu:
Lấy thanh sắc trần gian làm tài liệu.


Những lần in đầu tiên của bài thơ này không có 10 câu đầu do kiểm duyệt thời Pháp cắt bỏ.

Nguồn:
1. Mấy vần thơ (tập mới), NXB Đời nay, Hà Nội, 1941
2. Hoài Thanh, Hoài Chân, Thi nhân Việt Nam, NXB Văn học, 2007

just a sad day.

If I die one day, maybe today, will it change anything?

Will you come back home and make up for your mistakes and fulfill the responsibility that you were supposed to fulfill right now? Will you treat your parents better than now?

Will you feel better because you will be released from a burden?

Will anyone remember me if I’m suddenly gone without saying a word?

Will my dead make a difference?

I’m sorry for complaining too much. I’m sorry for not telling you how I feel. I’m sorry for being existent. I’m sorry for not trying hard enough. But I’m still trying. It’s so hard. I need somebody to be my shoulder, to listen to me.

I’m sorry for disappointing you all, for not being the daughter, sister, friend you’ve always wanted to me to be. But I just can’t. That’s who I am.

I guess when I’m gone, I will only create more burdens and sadness to everyone around me. If I hadn’t existed, fewer troubles would have been created in the first place right?

How can it be so tired and so lonely?

Memento Mori. Memento Vivere

A promise to Death

“Dear Death,

How are you? Do you remember me? Of course, we haven’t officially met yet but I have thought of you a lot so I think maybe you could hear me. If I could have a penny for every time I have calm suicidal or negative thoughts, I would be rich by now.

Calm suicidal thoughts.

I am no longer afraid of death. Is it a good thing? Yes. No. I don’t know.

I once told a family member that I wasn’t afraid of death anymore. They laughed, thinking I’m too young to understand what it means. They don’t know that I really mean it and once everything is done, I’ll be ready.

You know, a few weeks ago I was really happy and thought that maybe I deserved to be alive. But now, I think I shouldn’t. People will start to listen only when you’re dead. People will realize it’s their fault from the beginning only when you’re dead.

Do you know what stops me from taking my own life with my own hand? Responsibilities. Family.

What could possibly go wrong when one person ends their life? A lot of things, if you look at them in hindsight.

Dying is costly. It is easy to die, I promise. It might take a little pain, a little regret and struggle at the last moment of your life but it will be over. The story of your life has come to a full stop.

But. Who will pay for your coffin and burn your corpse? Who will pay for the mental damage your family might face? And what if, your death creates a butterfly effect and drags someone’s life with you? What if you are the only source of income and when you die, they will die too?

Hey Death, why do you have to make things so difficult?

They say your skin isn’t paper, don’t cut it. Your face isn’t a mask, don’t hide it. Your size isn’t a book, don’t judge it. Your life isn’t a film, don’t end it.

Ha.

I say your life is nothing different from a movie. It could be an inspirational one, or a tragic, or happy movie. Surely, the movie of your life will affect him or her. But like any movie, people will forget what they have watched and people, born from dust, will return to dust and eternity.

Will I ever finish my life before you come with diseases, disaster, and aging? Yes. Here is a promise to myself and to you. By the time I’m 30, if I still feel discontent with myself and feel like my existence is just a burden and a failure, I will end this sad story by myself.

Am I being too negative? No. Am I too scary to you? Maybe. Do I need help? No, thank you very much. Truth to be told, I am calmer than I have ever been. Think of it this way, I am giving myself a chance to be truly happy, to be myself, to find the love of my life (if he has ever existed and we are meant to be), to do the things I love. After all, I regret having not seeing every beautiful piece of this life and learn every beautiful piece of knowledge that has ever existed, I can’t go without knowing what I haven’t known yet.

I guess I still love this life. Or maybe I don’t. But I’m sending my hope to a better future.

11 years to come. It’s not a long or short time, but it will come as soon as I realize. So please, don’t waste your time.

Love you Death,

Buck up and be nice to yourself. At least for 11 years more.”

Me At 19

This was inspired by Dottie James and Savannah Brown, two amazing, inspiring YouTubers. I have linked their videos in case you want to watch. When I watched their videos, I decided that I should make one. However, I’m not comfortable making a video like they did, and truth to be told, my appearance hasn’t changed dramatically ever since primary school, except I’m taller, my skin is whiter, I have changed my glasses for a couple of times, from pink, purple to black or white, now black. So I will write a summary of my mental life instead of making a video. It’ll be a bit morbid. This post was written a couple weeks ago, and I was hesitant to publish it even though I know not everyone will read it. I guess I was afraid of being judged by strangers and acquaintances. Even though this is not a video, just a simple diary, but I want you to listen to some music while you are reading. So here how it goes. And grammar and spelling and word use, who the hell cares? This is my diary anyway.

I am an emotional person. I am sensitive and intuitive. I used to hate being told that I’m hypersensitive and I hate the fact that I’m emotional. Everyone around me makes me feel like it’s a bad thing. Every birthday, they will send me a note saying that “Don’t be hypersensitive”, or “You are too emotional”, or give me some adjectives which describe me and one of them would always be “emotional”. But I can’t stop being like that. It’s the struggle of being either emotional or indifferent.

They hate me when I cry and gradually I hate when I cry too, too much to the extent that I wish I didn’t have the eyes that I almost pride myself on so that I couldn’t cry anymore. I wish I were deaf so I couldn’t hear they fighting over and over again, louder over time and more intense every day. I wish I didn’t exist when I knew my existence is nothing but a burden and I make the people I love feel miserable. I don’t know what I live for and sometimes, I think I live to pay the debt I have brought to my family, literally and figuratively. I was tremendously hurt but I guess I wasn’t really hurt because how can I be hurt when obviously no one did anything to me and I don’t feel any ache in my chest? Just sometimes, only sometimes, when I see the image of that one particular person, I recall all of the shame, guilt, mistreatment and unreciprocated love and I burst into tears. But I actually didn’t do anything. I was an outsider. All I ever did is exist.

I thought I didn’t care, I thought I was okay if a piece of me was cut off, but I wasn’t. I do care. I just hypnotize myself that I don’t, because I don’t feel the ache in my chest that makes me feel hard to breathe even just for a moment like when I see my mom’s small wound. I just cry non-stop. Like I always do. Sometimes, I guess maybe when I think too much, I feel suffocated. I can’t breathe even though I’m breathing. I feel like there’s a rock on my chest and there is something stuck in my throat. I get used to it anyway. No big deal. It’s just stress. I know that. No big deal.


People are funny you know.

I grew up thinking that I was a smart child because I was always the “teacher’s pet” for being an excellent student and because I gained many prizes and I was a top student, though looking back now, they aren’t worth a thing. Then I became a high school student. I stopped being the best. Just good. Sometimes average. Sometimes too desperate and tired to the point I nearly gave up. But I can’t give up. How can I give up? Giving up doing what I’m doing means giving up on being better, giving up on striving to a happier version of me. So I stop being the “star”. People around me feel ashamed. And before I knew, I had trusted every single word they used to put me down.

I was a smart and happy child. I was strong. Even if you threw rocks at me, I still didn’t care. I was happy drawing and writing. I was completely free. Or at least that is what I thought.

Until someone I trusted came and said I was nothing. Over and over again.

They told me not to tell them what I feel or think, shut up, and obey because I wasn’t old enough. I was 17, about to turn 18. They said it didn’t matter what I thought and felt so I’d better accept it. And I did. I learn to lie and have secrets. I learn to stay away from everyone so I won’t get hurt. And I learn that everyone is fighting their battles so they won’t care what your problems are. I stop complaining.

But why do you always have to compare your things to everything? Why do you have to compare yourself to me and now you have to compare your problems to mine too to make me feel like shit for feeling what I feel?! And people call themselves intelligent creatures. How intelligent they are. After everything they told me about my emotions, they said they were disappointed in me for not knowing how to show any affection to them. How can I when everything you do is pushing me away after every fragile attempt I make to get closer to you? That’s why even though I feel like I hit the rock bottom at some points in my life, I’m still proud that at least I do think carefully and be stronger each time mentally, in retrospect.


I heard her cry, and I wish I could grow up fast so I could be a shoulder for her to cry on. Now I’m growing up fast, but I feel helpless than ever when I can’t control my life. I’m really scared of growing up because I feel like I’m so silly and stupid if I step into that real world. I’m afraid that I can’t do anything right in the future because I’m already a failure. How can I be afraid of such a lot of things when nothing bad has happened yet? I don’t know. I feel drained out, honestly, when I go outside. It doesn’t matter where I go, how long it takes or if I have fun or not, I’m just burned out. If I have to socialize with many people, I will be lost because I can’t fit in. I can be nice to everyone but I can’t be a tail and follow them and compliment them to make a new relationship. It’s not me. I can’t be with people who don’t even see me.


Although I’m a super-duper negative person, in the hardest times, I can be strangely calm like my alter ego has taken over and I’m completely different.

Yesterday, my English teacher asked me (and the whole class) a question, “What is happiness to you?”, and everyone said happiness was when they stayed with their families, they kept in touch with their good friends, they had money to buy cosmetics products and their K-pop concert ticket and I told him, “Happiness to me is peace in my soul. Because I’m not a very positive person, I tend to overthink about everything, like what if I fail, what if I DON’T fail. Therefore, it is hard for me to be happy most of the time. Sometimes, happiness is just about little things when I can go to bed earlier than everyone else and find my bed comfortable.” There’s one sentence I forgot to tell him, it was “As long as I can stop thinking for a while, I’m happy”.

There are a few days I feel happy. These are the days I’m alone with a bed and a laptop in my room. If I have to go anywhere during the day, I’ll come home feeling exhausted and negative. All the noise and all the voices will appear in my head, become louder and louder each time, making me nervous and helpless. That’s when I just need to lay my head down on my pillow, and they stop. I feel happy when I get lost in the moment while reading a book or studying a language. I feel happy when I don’t tell my parents a word that I’m sad but they somehow know, I guess it’s the bond between us, and the next day, they make me my favorite dishes. I feel happy when I watch Taylor Swift’s live concerts on YouTube and go high with her fans. I love the crowd moments like these ones.

It is silly when I didn’t want to admit I like Taylor Swift. People make me feel like her music is something for childish girls and they are all against her. I’m not sure what’s wrong with her and her music. I like her songs, and I love the way she deals with her haters. You say I’m a Snake, I’m gonna be the Snake Queen. It’s quite a smart move, isn’t it?

I feel happy when I find the right song for my mood. I feel happy when I’ve finally found a world of my own, which is WordPress (although but some people really scare me to death with their comments). It’s not like I don’t use Facebook or Instagram, but I have the so-called Facebook/ Instagram insecurities that make me feel like shit and realize how fucked up my life is. Now I can just say what I want to say and do what I want to do here. It’s just a blog, but it’s enough for me.

Those are the few happy things. I guess I should start to keep records of the happy things in my life so I can come back and feel better each time.

If there’s something I wish I’d known sooner in life, I wish I would have known that it’s okay being a late bloomer. Therefore, I don’t need to ask myself why I am so far behind, what I am doing wrong, whether I am a bad person or not.

Maybe I have some toxic relationships in my life, maybe I’ve lost a very close friend, but I’ve managed to keep many great things and many beautiful people in my life.

19th birthday. From Nhan

While I keep holding on to people who take me for granted, I’ve been an asshole to this person.

While I keep berating my imperfections and envying others for being too perfect, there was somebody telling me I was perfect, not them.

I guess it’s time I should let the past behind along with all of the used-to-be.

Happy. | Dottie James

You know, I barely like any poems. But this is one of the few poems that I like. Every single word she said resonates with me. The poem is so sad yet so beautiful. And this is how it starts:

Happy.

H A P P

Y aren’t I

H A P P

Y don’t I want to go outside?

sunshine used to make me

H A P P

Y does it now sting my creaking mind?

H A P P

Y is my room such a mess if I can’t even get out of bed where I spin dreams of HAHA

Happiness

heavy

heaving

chest

I’m so incredibly un-

H A P P

Y now I can’t even smile now at least not on the inside

how could my brain spell so well but my body can’t make a smile out of the letters

H A P P

Y am I avoiding my friends?

staring at texts saying “I miss U” N

H A P P

Y is my world out of focus?

I can’t cut through this blurriness the caffeine makes me nervous and then tired times 10

I’m starting to think I deserve this

yes of course because happiness doesn’t happen without sadness so I must be sad first if I ever want to be

H A P P

but why does it feel like a crushing blow?

this is more than a sadness you and I know

this is emotional absence

and the letters keep jumbled up in my head

Y H A P P

please teach me to feel deeply

I want to get out of this rut.

maybe if I work hard enough, distract myself enough and laugh enough, I would finally feel

H A P P Y

Happy

Why do I feel like it should be over now? The end of a poem came out, I was at my worst and now I’ll be fine. I mean that’s what happens in films right?

I’ll feel this way again. Way inside. I’ll have to fight this again and again, won’t I?  I have to scale mountains that no one else seems to see in order to be happy. My future holds rolling valleys and I’ll be scaling mountains every day but I have to be okay with seeing these mountains in a better way. If I don’t, I won’t ever be H A P P Y. I have to be ready to climb so I can find my definition of a feeling I feel is hard to define – HAPPY.

 

Như là vẽ ra thôi | By Zelda

Have you ever read something so beautiful that makes you think “I wish I wrote that”? This is the first thing that came to my mind when I read this poem, “Như là vẽ ra thôi”, written by Zelda Gin.

em đừng đọc những gì tôi viết

em đừng đọc những gì tôi viết
tôi chỉ biết nỗi buồn và sợ hãi
còn em cần hạnh phúc và tình yêu

nỗi buồn của tôi là kí ức tự thiêu
ném quá khứ qua ban công và nhảy xuống
độc thoại dốc đầy bình rồi uống
cạn một hơi vẫn không thấy tương lai

tình yêu tôi vẽ là cánh hoa tường phai
cô đơn đại dương trào qua vai thăm thẳm
hạnh phúc của tôi là con tàu bị đắm
tín hiệu cầu cứu ngắt lịm chìm trôi

ừ em ạ chỉ là thế thôi
em đừng đọc những gì tôi viết
tôi đã để điều duy nhất cần thiết
là em

Zelda Gin, or Zelda, is Vietnamese writer whom I really admire. She has wonderful aesthetics and she creates beautiful content. If you want more of her poems, you can visit her page here:

Zelda’s reverie
https://www.facebook.com/Zelchanslippedintoreverie/

My wildest dream | Chapter 1

“Paris, July 14th , 2046.

6:30. As always, Danny’s parents dropped their 3-year-old son to his usual babysitter so they could go to a royal party.

A few hours later, through the camera, a guy wearing a black suit unlocked the door and stepped into the house. Nobody had any doubts.

11:00. Danny’s parents went home. They opened the door and surprisingly found out all the lights were off. They shuddered. A sudden insecure feeling delved inside them. Where was their baby?

They turned on the lights. They screamed his name. They called the babysitter. But what replied them was the dead silence. They searched the whole house for their existence, every single room, every single corner. And then they found the babysitter’s corpse lying in the bathtub, bathed in blood. The question was, where was their son?

11:15. They desperately ran outside looking for him. Danny! Danny! Danny!

12:00. They went home again with an unexpected surprise waiting behind the wooden door.

6:00. A neighbor knocked on their door. There was no answer. She knocked again. Again and again. She opened the unlocked door and found the hosts lying on the hallway unconscious and not breathing. She fell down in panic. In a moment, she thought the people in the black hanging pictures were talking to each other.

Now that sounded crazy. They were all painted black. No specific details were seen. How could she know?

 They moved.

She immediately ran away and called the police. The ER doctor found trauma marks, including bruises on the young parents’ heads and necks. He believed he was looking at a strangulation. The ER doctor then examined the ill-fated babysitter. Not a strangulation. She had been brutally murdered; three sharp stabs in the heart, chest ripped open. The pathologist had to officially declare the deaths to be a murder.

 A disastrous murder was reported the day after that. The only victim survived sadly and fortunately was their 5-year-old son found in the closet. He said he knew the murderer, he said ‘they’ – the black pictures – knew clearly. He was then diagnosed with PTSD after witnessing the death of his parents.

Little did they know…”

“Giudice! Shut the laptop and get out of here immediately! You useless cur. Don’t you have anything better to do? Get a job, you are 26!”

Giudice was my name. What a name. And that was my mom. A grumbly old woman who always wanted to get involved in my life. “Get a job” was actually the most heard sentence in this house. Why didn’t she understand I was doing my job?! A job as a writer!

Don’t get me wrong. I loved her but I would be thankful if she had more sympathy.

“I am doing my JOB, mom.”

“Writing is not a job, you hear me?! Now get over here. Your friend calls you. Pick up the phone and answer. It’s rude to let people wait for you.”

“Friend” was a strange term to me. However, luckily for me, I still had someone worth being called ‘friend’.

“Hello, Scarlett.” – I picked up the phone and say.

“…” – there was no answer. However, I could hear her breathing.

The silence lasted for a couple of seconds then I heard a smile. She was not Scarlett; or I should have said, he. I may not have had an intelligent head but I was sensitive to sounds.

“Hello… friend.” – He smiled again. I could feel the chill from this side.

“Who are you?” – I had to admit this is a little crazy but I liked it. This was what I want. It just happened in the most unexpected way. Hopefully, there would be no bloodthirsty clowns appearing in my room. I would not expect that scene.

“We will meet soon my dear… peep” – he hung up. I confusedly looked at the phone.

Frankly speaking, if this was a threat or a premonition of a dark future, it didn’t work. In fact, this was a waste of time. He should have come to my house and scared me rather than make a short phone call like this.

I should have got back to my work. My ‘baby’ needs me.

Little did they know what he said was the truth.”

“Little did they know soon they would be watched like a lion did before killing its prey.”

I startled. Somebody was watching me surreptitiously and it seemed like that one was trying to steal my best part: finishing. I heard a voice. My instinct told me that it was him, the one who had called me. He raised his voice and continued my writing. I turned around and saw nobody. Then I heard footsteps. No, it couldn’t be right. I was home alone because my mom had gone to the market and my dad was at work. Doors were always locked carefully and I tended not to open the windows. Nobody should have been here. I heard the footsteps getting closer. I turned around again, they stopped. However, I saw a fleeting tail of black cloak outside my door. Then it disappeared!  He was running away! I chased after him, kept running, and running until we both reached the dressing room and he quickly jumped into the mirror. It shattered into bits and pieces and all I had left was a broken mirror and a man’s disappearing into the air. It was like what I had seen was just an illusion. I turned around to look for him and then the moment I looked back at the mirror, that man showed up, creepily smiled, grabbed me and dragged me into the mirror. I fell into that black hole for how long I couldn’t remember…  Broken bits of mirrors collided, sounded like a ringing bell.

“Little did they know soon their life will be held by someone’s hand.

Little did they know a portal had been opened and their world would be… so much fun.”