I
Literature
I am still here Somehow, I opened my eyes this morning.
I don't know how.
I shouldn't have woken up today.
Or any day after this one.
I should've been gone after last night.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
They saw the same ceiling they've been looking at for years.
Same room I grew up in.
Same place I desperately tried to run away from.
Somehow, I was back at the beginning of the story I tried to rip out of my autobiography.
It wasn't possible.
...
I woke up.
I just needed to convince myself that I did.
And so I got up from the old bed that held me ever since I was a child into my adulthood, the one who saw most of my tears, all of my fears and the acts of bravery such as this one-waking up instead of dying on the same spot.
I stood in front of the mirror.
There was a woman I was staring at.
Me.
But her eyes weren't as they should've been.
They were filled with...fear.
She was deathly afraid.
Of...herself?
And once again, she met all of the fears that chased her throughout her miserable life, she met