A Web of Lives

A Web of Lives Unexplored

I sit at the table

With the four other girls

I have sat with

For three meals and three snacks

Every day

For a week now.

I realise that I actually only know

One of their names.

Georgie.

She has long black hair extensions

Dark eyeliner

And always smells of smoke.

She has a three year old baby

And is 25 like me.

I rack my brain

But can't think of anything else.

The other girls

I've barely said a word to;

We sit there silently

Nibbling at our toast

Reluctantly spreading exactly half our butter sachets

(the minimum requirement)

On our scones;

Carefully slicing kiwi fruit

Into tiny pieces...

There's no chatting

No room for small talk

Amidst our tormented thoughts.

I look around at these girls

And see

Furrowed brows

Drugged glazed eyes

Tears trickling down cheeks

Shaking hands

Gritted teeth

Emaciated bodies …

And I hate this illness

With a renewed intensity.

I wonder about their stories

Their lives

Who loves them

And who they love,

What their dreams are

What they have done

Where they have been...

Part of me wants to talk to them

But a stronger part holds back;

The only way I can cope

Seems to be to shut off

To distance myself

To make myself as numb as possible

As I force myself to take a bite of cheese scone;

Detached from reality,

Far away

From everyone

And everything.