Jude Bien '27
I flew from my rest. The boy next to me commented on the evident mess I was in, but his words were distant. As the silk blanket wrapping me became overwhelming, it was apparent, I needed nothing but to run. Every thought dragged me further back as I aimed for the room ahead. There was a space between me and my thoughts, a tension pulling my heart through my stomach. It was as if I had a scratch I could not itch within my chest. With every action, it seemed to get more intense. I rushed to wash myself off as I attempted comprehension of the situation I was in, moreover my resulting thoughts. Two steps from the sink to the mirror, this was not my house. I quickly realized the lack of continuity lining my thoughts. I had no recollection of getting to the house I was in, why this constraint of anxiety plagued my movement, or even the previous breath I took. I felt lost. Only then did I finally look into the mirror I had been standing in front of. There was another of me standing by my side. He was smiling, he seemed innocent and caring. Although he was covered in dirt and his clothes were in shreds. Now I knew nothing of myself or my previous fret, I didn't need to; this was the threat, this was what was bothering me, this was the scratch I needed to itch. It took hesitation, but it was then that I could finally recall what the boy next to me had said. It wasn't a judgment; it was a direction. "We need to hurt ourselves." Standing next to myself, I felt my humility. I had wronged that boy, but he was right, this was my destiny. As my fist flew towards my alter's face, I was replenished with the satisfaction I had been missing. The itch was being scratched, and the burns were being treated. I woke up.