Evil Eye

by Etaf Rum

What was she searching for? She wasn’t sure, but the more that was happening out there, the less was happening inside her, and that at least provided some relief.

Why didn’t the world recognize that identity and privilege were accidents of birth? How much more empathy would people have if they understood that their position in life was decided not by goodness or merit or fault or need but by luck and chance, a toss of a coin?

Yara sat, unspeaking, unmoving, unable to explain. It horrified her how far she would be willing to go to be rid of the darkness inside her, to quiet the voice in her head.

Travel and tell no one, live a true love story and tell no one, live happily and tell no one. People ruin beautiful things.’”

Words simplified situations and emotions, robbed them of their complexity.

Could her words portray how powerless she felt, how torn? Never fitting in, unable to truly belong.

As long as we continue to share our stories, our history will be remembered.”

didn’t want to hurt myself, nor would I have. But the thought of being alive felt more painful than death could be.

What did she want to talk about? The list had gotten so long she’d lost track. She wanted to tell him that ever since she started writing in her journal, she’d been thinking about her thoughts. Did he do the same? Had he ever stopped to notice the endless stream running through his head, seemingly uncontrollable? A voice that just wouldn’t stop talking, observing, judging? Maybe he didn’t have it. But once Yara had registered it was there, it was impossible for her to ignore the nonstop chatter. Why couldn’t she turn it off?