Rolling My Eyes

You check in on me when you get your break for lunchtime now. You never used to. You ask me, "Are you all right?" You breath in and out hard once through your nose, like it is a chore to even ask. It seems to me that for you everything is an obligation, even holding my hand. Everything you do doesn't feel like anything more than surveillance now. I don't want the days to end and it is getting harder to sleep at night. I am starting to feel sick, like I have the flu. I'm always cold. But I haven't eaten much lately. My stomach is filled with acid. I smile at you anyway. I write two letters a day. One to keep you smiling and one that tells of the truth, but they both look the same. You do not know that I form certain words and sentences in a way that triggers me, in a way that reminds me of what is real. It is something that I started doing in grade school for tests, so that I could easily remember the answers, and then later, so my mother would not underst...

I have been here with you now for four weeks and you you still haven't said my name. And now the only person who knows it here is gone. Not that we knew that much about each other. Michelle and I. I never even asked her what country she was from. She never asked me either though. Some of the Stranded use fake names. For all I know, Michelle could have been doing that. My own name is so common that I can't imagine what I would change it to. Everyone would know it was a lie anyway, if I tried to pass myself off as a Paula or Deborah. I look like who I am. Even when we left the building for a drink, something we started to do everyday, Michelle and I mostly talked about the books. Seldom personal, but then again, our favourite books maybe say more about who we are than anything else does. The books are more important than ever. The Library is about the only place where I'm allowed to make my own choices. But it is only for books. Since I'm not a registered member of your b...