‘The Window to my Heart’ by Tobenna O
4th September 2000
I stopped taking my meds today. Everyone says trust the doctors, but I don’t think I can. There’s just something off about them. They get to dictate what they put in my system to “heal” me, but I want control. I need control over my body and what I do.
The night is windy today, a slow breeze. I can almost feel it grazing me. But my window is shut and locked — only the sound of wind and a continuous knocking, a knocking so intimate, so daring, as if a hand were a mass of meat slabbing on the glass and smearing messily.
There is something about that window. It might be her mouldy frame encapsulating her pure beauty, or the curtains’ long and luscious silkiness, able to tangle you up in her fatal visage. She removes my intense trepidation with her ineffable grace.
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5th September 2000
I skipped work today. I can’t trust them. They all kept looking at me yesterday, so I didn’t bother today.
It’s nighttime, the knocking has gotten louder. She’s really opened up so far, has she? The window is still closed — at least it isn’t locked. But she seems a little sad today. Tears roll down my window, flowing so fast without an end. Some tears fall faster than others. A tear trickled down my face. I know I’m such an empath, but who wouldn’t cry with her?
I lay in my bed, mesmerized by her loud, meaty thuds, able to crush anyone’s soul. Her song echoes through my room like a mating call.
I’m in love with her ineffable grace.
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6 September 2000
I broke my phone and the landline. The people from my workplace — they kept calling me. The sound of it going off seemed like a ticking bomb waiting to explode. It needed to go. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I had to break the phones. You wouldn’t understand. They were spying on me. I couldn't trust them.
I couldn’t, I couldn’t, I couldn’t.
I can only trust her. She’s the light of my dark world. She’s the paintbrush to my painting. She’s the window to my heart.
I plan to fall asleep next to my window. She’s the only person keeping me sane in a world full of aliens that I don’t know. The knocks are almost as loud as thunder now. Every time she knocks my heart flutters. It’s like she knows when I’m feeling down. She’s soon going to fully open up to me. I know. I know. I know.
But her sweet, ineffable grace — I desire.
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7 Sep 2000
The window — she’s finally opened up to me. The knocking has stopped. Her ineffable grace,
she’s mine.
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Excerpt from Police Report #2467
7/09/2000
Officers responded to a noise complaint of loud knocking from an apartment.
The owner of the apartment was reportedly found dead by the side of the building, directly under an open window.
Suspected to be suicide stemming from insanity.