Rewritten by :Vishakha Jindal
Toxic friendship
Eucalyptus oil clad nose, squeaky fan blades and a sense of
tension in the air. I close my eyes to sleep shutting my ears with my arms to
restrict mosquitoes in my ear. As my hands reach out to the bed rest, my finger
nails brush against curtains which felt like crawling cockroaches. After the
day’s rush I did not want to think about creepy crawly matter. But my brain would
write letters and respond to itself. Like I don’t even exist. Things that don’t
exist are engaged by my brain. It doesn’t like to be real. Neither do I force
it to be unless it fools me with cockroaches. It takes my breath away when I
have cold.
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