“… but why was I not shredding any tears?”
Every night I would sing myself to sleep. I hummed the melody and sang the lyrics in my head. Not a single tiny bit of sound was made. The room was too silent that I could hear the white noise coming out of the lamp. I would stare at one particular spot of my ceiling until my brain formed a picture of things, sometime things that had never existed. I would change the spot the next night so that I would entertain myself with a different picture every night. The house was so quiet after everyone had left. I remember vividly the loud noise my dad used to talk. My mom would sit quietly doing her paperwork. She was still working at her 50s. My older brother was a nerd, but he liked rock music, and he liked it loud. I could hear them songs clearly from room through two walls. I couldn’t imagine how my younger sister could stand living wall to wall with my brother. His favorite was Linking Park’s In The End, and it was also mine.
Everyday was alike; nothing was special about this family until the spread of a pandemic in 2020. They called it Covid-19. I didn’t know what it was; all I knew was the millions of deaths would wide. The disease was not as scary as the economy. It saw a huge plummet that had never seen before, even more intense than the great depression during the 1930s. People were panic and no one was happy, and neither was my family.
We went through the pandemic like champs because non of us went out, nor did we work. We stayed in and did the usual thing we had always did. My brother would stay in his room listening to his loud rocks, my sister would locked herself in her room doing something I had never known, my mom would just sit at her death table doing her work for the fact that she was the only one working during that critical time to support the family, and my dad would be at the backyard smoking and drinking wine and beer. He wanted to smoke and drink as much as he could, but our budget didn’t allow, so he needed to save every drop of his alcohol drink. He only smoked half of the cigarette in the morning and so that he could enjoy the other half in the evening before dinner. Dinner to us was a fancy word. We had not had a proper diner since Covid-19 started. My mom would only allow half of the meal we used to have, so every one only had a small bowl of rice and a piece a fried dry-fish.
So where have they gone? Everyone? I woke up one morning just to find out everyone was gone. I didn’t what had happened the night before, or probably the year before. I felt exhausted and lifeless. It was weird at first, but I got used to it fast. I thought everyone died, or they was fed up with me and moved out without me. I thoughts a lot, but why was I not shredding any tears? I guess I was the who who was fed up with living in such family. I used to hate my family, not any one in particular. I used to think running away from home and never ever coming back, but I never did. So where are they now? What happened to them? I don’t miss them actually; I am just curious. I want to be ready for my time. Was it hurt? I mean when they was killed? If they were killed. or Was it hurt to leave me? If they left me. I haven’t had the answer for 10 years now, so this doesn’t really bother me much.
The boy next door experienced the same thing. He is the only friend I have now. His family suddenly disappeared and he had no clue. He sounded and looked rather stupid when he was telling me what he found out the morning he woke up in bed alone.
Every midnight, he and I would climb to the rooftop and look at the sky. We hope one day they will come again.
Meanith Notes 