It has not been a while. I am writing again, while finishing another written task and watching a fruit sandwich mukbang. 

What was yesterday? That morning has been a shock. Pure, unanticipated, unprovoked shock. A number of people texted me, one phoned me. It was a frantic jolt to start any day with. It felt like hallucinating. Nonetheless, I got over it, got my hair cut, and spent the entire afternoon sleeping the erratic nerves away. When I woke up, it was too late for either dinner or crying. I spent the rest of the night awake, forgetting when the nausea ended. 

Yesterday was the day any normal people would confide to other people. Yesterday was, unlike my usual days, an event. Yesterday was a thing. I was running scenarios in my head, who would I tell this to: my sisters? My mom? That friend who phoned me? That friend I have not been in contact with, A? A different friend who never knew yesterday was happening so strangely for me? At the end of the day, I was glad to have cried, at least. I cried hot liquids and when it stopped feeling like it was burning my throat, I came back with hair 7 cm shorter. At the very least, at the end of the day, I made yesterday mine. Is it even yesterday anymore? It is now a little over 1 AM.

No normal people could have easily been well after what yesterday has been for me, I assured myself. No normal people should have been allowed to be at loss of words, I told, you should have been mad, cursing, tossing things. At last, you should have screamed. Why did I not scream? I could have screamed. I could have said to anyone: I was not sleeping well, I have been late, I have been unfortunate, I have been struck with luckless technical problems, I have been lonely dealing with all of this at once by myself, by something I was not told to be prepared of. I could have said to anyone that I was so surprised this happened to me, that this could have happened to anyone and happened to have happened to me. In a way, that this happened was a non-event. In a way, that day felt like an unlucky day for me. At the end of all the ruminating, I sighed, how could I tell anyone of this? How could anyone have anything to do with this. No one should put up knowing this thing, a non-event, happening to me, me, merely me. It could have happened any day, it could have happened to anyone, it could have not happened. I could pretend yesterday was an alternate reality. 

Still, someone managed to say to me which sounded like: I am also angered on behalf of you. That was reassuring. I replied: The whole time, I felt like talking to a wall. She did not reply. Still, someone did say to me immediately that yesterday was something worth of an emotion. Burst, burst of emotions. Still, I had no place to light the fireworks. I am watching the silent fire fogging my bedroom. That day, I slept for hours and still felt tired. When I woke up, my first thought was: did I deserve that sleep? What was that sleep for? And then I slept some more.

I am going to sleep. I am still feeling the residues of the shock, rimming outside the wound still fresh. I am still feeling everything with not enough grace. I am still feeling everything. I am still feeling.