Something About the Way They Looked at Me

They looked at me as though I were something precious, as though they already knew I was going to die. The moment felt distant. I tried to tell them I wasn't going anywhere. I tried to speak, but I couldn't.

 

Maybe it would take some time. There were too many people. They might not hear me properly.

 

I smiled at them anyway.

 

There was no way I was going to die.

 

Not before I visited the places I had forgotten to visit, the places I never got the chance to see. Not before the mountains and the great steppe where I wanted to drink this yellow tea with her. The riverside where I would camp beneath a sunset and cook for my favourite person. The palaces, the forts, the deserts. The moon. The sky.

 

I would definitely need to look at the sky right now.

 

Should I tell them now?

 

No. Maybe after the crowd is gone.

 

I didn't want to talk. I was shy. They all knew I was shy. Why were they still crowded around me when they knew me?

 

The doctor had once told me not to think about it. I had tried to argue with him about his ideology too. He knew me well. He had even given me a few books to read. Among them, Tao Te Ching was still there.

 

There was still that little thing I used to mark the page I was about to read.

 

I badly wanted to read it now.

 

But I couldn't open my mouth with all these people around me.

 

It had always been like this.

Even when I was a child.

 

That fucking stammering. I cursed it for years, even after it was gone. Then the stammering left and something else stayed behind. Anxiety. It learned to arrive much faster.

 

Oh no.

They're picking me up.

 

“Hey.”

I shouted.

 

They didn't hear me.

 

“Hey, stop it.”

I tried again.

 

They kept lifting me.

I looked towards the desk.

 

My watches.

“Make me wear it.”

The black one.

 

I wasn't going anywhere without that.

They didn't listen.

I hadn't even bathed.

I remembered that suddenly.

 

Then someone came closer and kissed my head.

 

Who was that?

I was forgetting things. Very bad.

 

My vision began to scatter. The room was breaking apart at its edges.

 

The faces around me became indistinct. The room grew quieter, though I knew it wasn't. I tried to hold my eyes open.

 

I wanted to tell them something.

But my mouth wouldn't open.

So I smiled again, hoping someone would understand.

 

And just before everything went dark, I thought I still haven't seen the sky.