Used to this
But I think maybe when you’re with me
I like everywhere
— Used to this (Camilla Cabello)
We dashed through the blooming fields of swaying sunflowers, the blazing rays of sunshine reaching out towards us. The lush grass enveloped us as we collapsed, huffing as the adrenaline faded from our bodies. I would roll over to face you, taking a few ringlets of your wild, unruly hair and braiding it between my fingers. You would push me away, chuckling, because we both knew that with your hair, my attempts would always turn out disastrous.
Those were my favourite memories with you, Kaia. Feeling the warm breeze gently ruffle our hair and basking in the golden droplets of sunlight. I still have reveries about embarking on new adventures with you. Maybe one day we’ll visit the bustling streets of Paris, trawling through a market on a dewy morning, trying French cheese and feeding each other grapes ripened by the sun. Or perhaps we’ll instead go to Moscow, wrapped in cosy, oversized jackets and watching the snowflakes flutter onto the palms of our hands. I think maybe when you’re with me, I like everywhere.
But there are no adventures to embark on in my empty, bleach-white room. Yes, I know. Bleach-white. I don’t think imagination is even allowed in this institution.
“I’d rather drink bleach than be imprisoned here,” I joked to one of the doctors. I expected a laugh, or maybe a tiny chuckle. But he just gaped at me and started scribbling on his little clipboard. You should’ve seen his reaction!
To be quite honest, the room isn’t actually too bad. It’s fairly comfortable, with a good amount of sunlight seeping into the room from the window above. It’s the doctors I have an issue with.
They push these tiny pills down my throat, those doctors. They say I have something called schizophrenia, that you’re not real. At first, I was sceptical. I mean, first of all, I am not a child. I can differentiate between what’s real and what’s not. And you have your flaws too. Like, wouldn’t I conjure up some perfect deity if you weren’t real? Not saying that I don’t appreciate you, but who forgets to brush their hair like almost everyday? Only you, Kaia, only you.
But now, I’m not so sure. You don’t visit me at all. Do you think I’m crazy as well? I miss you so much. I’ll admit I’m a bit mad that you haven’t tried to contact me once, but hey, if you reply to this letter, I’ll forgive you. I promise.
Maybe one day, I’ll be free and we can explore the world again.
Kaia and Jamie. Jamie and Kaia. We’re inseparable. Nothing will ever change that for me. Not even these “doctors”.
In the meantime, pray I make it out of here alive. Let’s go to Paris after, okay?