“i feel…astray. like being in a new city with a map that keeps directing me anywhere but my destination; drowning in the deepest darkest ocean; floating in the sky with the wind pushing me wherever it wants to take me. i feel small, smaller than dust. my heart wrenches itself into a tiny bit of particle and i imagine myself sinking into it, being one with my own crumpled heart…as if it would make me disappear; non-existant; like i was never here. what an odd feeling. odd, but familiar. then guilt and shame come over me, shouting how useless it was for me to feel these things. but how ironic. doesn’t that mean feeling guilty and ashamed is also useless itself? every feelings are useless, in that case.”

working, reading, walking, eating — doing all these mundane things, she has infinite thoughts in her mind, including the thoughts of banging her head on the wall and throwing every glass bottle she could get her hands on just to feel the burning sensation of satisfaction when she hears the sound of shattering glasses. most passes through, in a minute or a day or a week, but one thing stays: a question of ‘who am i, really?’