The Child is Sick of Mildew

Dear Mom and Dad,

I am sorry for dying but I think being born was a mistake, coming here to this world has always felt like an accident. I hate it here, and whenever I get back from school I am unable to remember what happened while I was there and when I’m there I forget home. I do not have any memories, nothing is spectacular and everything feels empty.

I have no idea how my body would look when you find me, how much blood I would have spilled out of me, I’d try not to get some on the carpet. Mom, please understand that I chose this and try to not be sad for me, just pray for me, pray that the other world is all I hope it would be because then I would truly be happy for once. Hopefully, reincarnation is real and I get to see you again but either way, I’d see you whenever you get here. Goodbye Earth.

I Love you.

In Death and in Life,

Your son — James.

I remember finding this letter in my old backpack, this was around the time I had started to prepare for University. It rained knives back then and nothing could stop the wars in my mind. My childhood was filled with suicide letters tucked inside pillowcases and in between bible passages. Mildew and I had written them together, she usually preferred passionate letters narrating incidences of sadness but what I really felt was a numbing cold, a chill that came with the frosty sunrise on another pointless day in my relinquished universe.

Death would fix everything, we would finally be free

Mildew often whispered to me, floating in front of my mind’s eye like a fallen angel. Mildew’s presence obstructed my thoughts that seemed to accumulate behind her, hindered by her aura and brown eyes. Her touches were faint and empty as if I was brushed by a single leafs’ edge, it felt as though her presence was fleeting yet held bound by my conscious desire for companionship.

Mildew finally got her way one Sunday Afternoon, the family had decided to make a short visit to the driver’s house, he had been sick and Mom felt it was important we spent some time with him. She was nice that way. Although the sun was at it’s peak and normally I would protest such a trip — I agreed, walking a considerable distance ahead of everyone so I could have some moments alone with Mildew. She had been prompting me to stop writing poems for the girl I had just started to date at the time. I usually stole poetry we created together and wrote them in beautiful cursive on gift cards for Rue.

Dialogue 1

James: I really like Rue and I could care less about what you think about me writing her poetry.

Mildew: But they are not yours alone and thus not yours to give.

James: How bout you get your own body then you can give them to whoever you like?

Mildew: I already have a body.

James: Well it comes with a landlord. I’d do whatever I want.

Mildew: Let’s not fight about this. Try to understand where I am coming from, whenever you do things without my consent it makes me feel insignificant like I do not exist, and you of all people should know how terrible that feels.

James: I am sorry you feel that way but you usually get whatever you want, now it’s my turn to want stuff.

Mildew: What does that even mean?

James: That I love Rue so get used to it. I think I am getting too old for an imaginary friend.

Mildew: You want me to leave? For some girl?

James: Maybe. I don’t know. I just don’t want to keep this secret any longer. I would tell Mom about us when we get back. Who knows? I could be sick. She may have some pills to fix this. Prayers maybe? I don’t know.

Suddenly, a loud noise broke through the barriers of my ears, rattling my eardrums and forcing my eyes open. I had been struck by a speeding car as I attempted to cross the road, the driver slammed the brakes upon impact, throwing my scrawny body to the side of the road. My nostrils were filled with the smell of blood and my mouth got a mixed blend of iron and tar. I had bounced off my face and landed on my back lending my eyes a shifting view of earth and sky, it felt like sex. I loved every minute of it.

The ground never felt better, blood never tasted this good, the sun was having its best day yet and the screams from the haters had a nice ring to it. I felt my mother’s palms grabbing on my disjointed jaw as her salty tears seeped into my mouth but I still couldn’t see her just yet. Not yet, I thought. I need to savor this a little longer.

James! Open your eyes!

She wailed gently holding on to me as though I was the most important thing in the world, pain flowing through her fingers and for a short second, I felt sad for her. She clung so strongly to a life so eager to end.

I can’t see Mommy

Whispering through my busted jaw, shedding tears of my own as the adrenaline wears off slowly bringing feelings of pain and clarity. Mildew had given me the kiss of death but I had been awoken to the sensations of this world by mother. Something about the smell of olives and motherly love kept me drawing oxygen to this day.

Dear Mother,

Thank you for saving me.

When I look up in the sky, I can see the daylight in the night.

Grateful for my brush with death and saddened by my journey back to life.

Truly Yours,

Mildew.

https://music.apple.com/ng/playlist/a-child-is-sick-of-mildew/pl.u-vxy69M6tz9L1qyM

--

--

BSc. Microbiology. MSc. Managerial Psychology

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store