Momo
They are fighting again, their voices rising octave by octave: louder and louder, until their voices start existing within my own head.
Embedded, which keep on playing inside and outside me continuosly, over and ove: soon cross-riding each other. Until my world is shallow, quiet, no longer exisitng. Where my head repeats its life in a series of dead thuds.
Where I am not feeling anything at all. Nothing at all.
Not anymore,
I am Momo.
Soon the raising of voices begins again. Tired, and drained from every bit of life from within me, i turnover and fumble with my duvets on my bed.
"Momo" a warm voice from somewhere pipes up.
There stands my brother, Jamie, only 5, near the door.
"Can I sleep with you?"
"Yes" I whisper. Tears prickle my eyes, but you wouldn't understand why.
Jamie takes small but quick steps and climbs up my bed, soon he snuggles beside me, swinging an arm over me: to stay in contact.
A contact for life: a contact which acts as our lifeline.
If Jamie hadn't been there I would have died. But you wouldn't understand why.
And I needn't really explain to you why.
"Momo......"
"Hmm......"
"I am scared...."
"Dont' be..."
A few moments of eerie silence and understanding passes between us like moths switching near a light source. Funny how moths are attracted to bright light at night, but don't give a damn about the strongest light, the sun during the day. Our thoughts are the same. Like the moths.
Like the fireflies.
Like every child's who wishes to have a normal life, normal parents, normal everything.
But no person is normal, and neither is their life normal.
And this you might understand: because here we connect.
But still.
Tomorrow we run away.
