I am freezing, shivering, I am so cold.
The lights went out long before and the sun is slowly setting and nothing will ever be okay again.
Curtains? Closed.
Jul, please stop crying. Yes, our hands are embraced but as if one of us could ever give the other one halt. No, this time is not different than the other times, you are still crying, mum still shouting, dad still working, and I am still breathing. But I wish it was. Different.
We both feel the tension in our never-resting minds, all this muddled energy in our heads.
The room, yours, is not filled with enough air at all, and mum is breathing so heavily that I am worried she might get a heart attack when she‘ll continue on raging.
We‘re in a theatre, mum is the director and she loves to see us burning on the screen.
Until the very end.
-
Hey mum, I didn‘t recognise you, good that you are yourself again. I was worried you might never again turn into the less-stressed but still stressed-to-death person that you were before your fit of rage.
Jul look, now you‘ve made mum cry, what a misery she created.
Now the sun is gone, curtains are still closed but mum is with us again and you are still crying but this time it is your problem, right?