Chapter Six: “Pen”

Walking into that small, empty room, I have nothing to think about. I sat down again; my pen didn't want to stop writing when my mind was totally empty. I have no idea what I should write, but somehow my pen knows exactly what to do. The paper is not white anymore; it is all filled with this black ink. Thinking about it, I wondered what color my soul was. All I know is that it's black; does that mean that I was painted with pain that gave me that color? color of death, but do I really seek death? Honestly, I don't want to die; all I want is to kill that pain inside me. I just want to live normally.

Here we go again; my pen is still running in this paper, running around to find an answer—an answer for what, I don't know. In our lives, the hardest thing is looking for an answer to something that we don't know or can't explain. I didn't write anything for a long time, but here's the pen in my hand. I just want to put down my deepest feelings, but how? Maybe no one will believe it, but the truth is that it is really hard to catch words on the page; it is even harder to take a pen and start writing when you are dragged by your own emotions and your own body. I have never imagined myself in this situation; I have never talked with someone. Speaking more than two words hurt my throat, so maybe I finally found a way to speak through Then who will read it? Does my body, my feelings, and my inner self want to read "Mara"? After all, it all belongs to me. Maybe after I read it, something will change. What will change? I can't know. I just want the pen to continue writing, and even if my hand feels numb, I want to keep writing. I feel sorry for that pen for carrying all these feelings and emotions and putting them down. But isn't it worth it? Maybe one day all of this will change. It's almost night; I took a look from that small window, watching the same tree, those yellow and brown leaves. What a combination of colors! Looking at it, it's just warm; it's beautiful. Thanks to autumn, it gave it this look, but isn't this a sign for the leaves death? Then why does it look beautiful? Is death beautiful? Will my death be beautiful too?