The chopper ride was heavy. Although the night outsider seemed peaceful. I looked outside and was reminded of my life before I transmigrated here. That was a small boring one. But I now miss being at home.
It was mundane but safe. And my life has never been offtrack. Since a kid I've been a control freak. I have always choose my decision very carefully, even though they did hurt me in the end. I didn't have anything to be sad about, no regrets. Because I had given my heart and soul to the choice and even if it didn't work out there was nothing to be sad about anymore. It didn't make me any less worthy of whatever I'm.
I've been hurt, betrayed and abandoned; but never thought that I'm less worthy of my life. Even when ghost and team look at me like I'm a roach in their kitchen. I know I'm not. I know I'm stupid but I'm honest. But does being honest save me in this world? Or dig me a deeper grave?
Since the start of my teenage years, I've always been a funny person. I've always made people laugh. Even when I didn't laugh, I had the ability and used it to make friends because why not. But the thing about being the funniest in the room is.. it becomes a habit. And bad habits.. it kills soul and so..
I won't say that I'm the saddest person in this chopper right now, I don't make bold statements. But I can say that when I made others laugh no one could see the silent cries in my heart. Not blaming them, I concealed it pretty well. Still.. there's always been a piece of me that wanted to be more than a funny person.
I wanted to be someone whom people sat about and read like a book. And because I've never been someone who had a patient person love them. I wouldn't know what it feels like. So I can't even imagine something I don't know and never felt. Sad isn't it? I think it's funny..
Well whoever said life goes on.. said right. It does. No matter what happens to you. Even if your world got twisted in ways you can't explain to anyone, it does go on. There's never a break, there's never a never. Just you me and this endless perpetual cycle of never ending days and nights, with us pretending to not care that it's like a falling in a bottomless pit where no one knows when they'll hit the ground and become a pancake. And everyone hits the ground at a different time too.
But the fact that we hate doing life so much yet we still do it, is beyond me. What keeps us going on? Is it the curiousity of what the other day holds for us? Or is it just.. us pretending that we're not bothered? Or is it just me?
Well.. I do not know. Nor do I wish to know. I've never been the one to dwell too much in my thoughts, my thoughts can make and break me too quick and I'll tell you it'll be the latter one.
But maybe someday when I'm not in the middle of abyss thinking why my life burns like hell, we'll meet. At that time then, this you and me, won't exist but it'll still be meaningful; than existing without a thought. More meaningful than being mechanic about your thoughts and autopilot your life.
As these thoughts passed me the ride felt heavy in my heart. The gnawing thought of never being able to go back to my life soothed and scared me at the same time. Why was I so diabolical? Or maybe now am I asking real questions?
Tears started to stream down my face tracing their path from my cheeks to falling down my chin. I sniffled trying not to break infront of people who already see me as an insect. Invasive at that. Maybe a wasp of some kind.
But how do I tell them that even I don't know why I'm here. That even I am clueless and I didn't asked to be dragged here. I didn't asked to be slapped and split my lips. I didn't ask for any of this. I'm just a girl.
I've been trying to understand their situation, trying to comply, trying to adjust, but why can't they see me as a human too? Is it too much to ask for. Is it too much..
But like everything else that happened here. I didn't get any answers. Just the rotor blades going and breeze that hit me from time to time. I'm hurt too.. my legs hurt from all the walking, my cheeks hurt from the slap, my head hurts from cold and stress, my lips hurt, my stomach hurt from anxiety, my wrist hurt from the friction getting raw due to being zip tied. But who do I complain to? Aren't I a threat here? Even though I don't look like one, I'm still one.
Maybe I was sent here to suffer? Maybe to die like an insect they think I'm. Or maybe to stress them out. But whatever it is.. their position is still better than mine. They're trained, armed, geared up and teamed. They have everything to their disposal. While I'm suffering like I'm the worst terriost alive in their ground.
Maybe I'm.. I walked in a warzone. But I didn't hurt anyone. Wasn't a brat.. listened to everything they said. Should I really be treated so bad. Do I really deserve death threats thrown towards me?
They're CIA, they're trained like this. Trained to be inhuman, to work like a machine. But I'm not. I just want to be treated like a human. It seems like asking for humanity in the world too familiar for cruelty, is like seeking water in desert.
Tears trickle down my face falling down form my chin. Every drop reminder of every sad thought that ever passed me. I bite my lip trying not to sob harder but do anyway. I tremble crying more. Do I really deserve to be treated like this?