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It was a usual night for Maya. Her disheveled, unwashed hair flows against her pillow as she tosses and turns, restless. Crumbs of Kruidnoten strewn across her long, crimson, sweater press into her skin, contributing to her uneasiness. She brushes them off, the pestering clatter audible as the small brown pieces hit the ground. With her door ajar, she sees the faint light in the hall, illuminating the space between her room and her sisters’. A faint reminder of how distant she was from Coco and Mymy. She turns away from the door, trying to wrestle away that hollow, cold feeling. She squeezes her arms against her chest as tears sting in her eyes. Once again, the roar of her intrusive thoughts pierces through her head, akin to the razor-sharp point of a freshly sharpened arrow. The feeling of not being important enough. The feeling of not being loved. The feeling of—
Suddenly, the lines and shapes around her blur, and once she becomes steady, a roaring wave of clapping assaults her ears. It fills the room as she watches a girl give a warm, genuine smile. Her dark black hair wavers down breathtakingly, with small braids woven through it, framing her ethereal green eyes. They glisten, catching the sunlight with a fierce, unapologetic brilliance as she walks back to her seat. With every step, she displays an aura of confidence that baffles the girl standing at the very back of the classroom, invisible to everyone.
Maya.
Or at least she thinks she is.
The girl who’s now with Coco, sharing a friendly moment, looks eerily like herself, but everything feels off, distant. Unattainable, somebody who she can never become.
“Your presentation was wonderful! Can I see what’s in your new necklace?” said Kiki, one of Mymy’s friends. She hasn’t talked to Kiki, or anyone for that matter, and as a result, they don’t talk to her. Drawn to the two girls, she moves closer, desperate for a better view. But as she tries to grip a chair, it slips right through her fingers.
She doesn’t exist here.
Maya steps back in shock, taking notice of the red dress worn by ‘Maya’, an article of clothing she’s never found herself confident enough to wear, in a long, long time. Lost in thought, she turns to her imitation, revealing a golden heart locket to Kiki and her classmates. They surround her, watching with an interest she’s never felt herself given. Inside it, it shows pictures of her and her siblings having fun, along with photos of her mother and father, but there’s one photo that catches her attention the most. Coco, holding Noga with a blinding smile on her face. No, that’s not right. Not at all. Coco took the cat from her because of her allergy. She watched them euthanize her only friend before her very eyes! With each new picture, laugh, giggle, and smile, she wept, her arms trembled, and her chest constricted. It’s all a grating knife driven into her heart that pushes its way further every single second, making her blood run cold. The bell rings, and the class period has ended. As Maya follows the class as they leave the door, she watches that distant version of herself walking with a group, just like Coco, that disgustingly beautiful girl she’s forced to call her sister forever. The repugnant way she presents herself, the way she walks, the way she gives a smile—it all just reminds her of Coco. She feels an intrusive urge to vomit, but she simply can’t.
Peeking into her English class, Maya watches as her clone is selected as their star student, the teacher using her essay as an example of proper English writing. She praises her work, saying that despite her second language being English, she had become so enthralled in studying that she had been writing expertly crafted creative writing assignments and essays. The praise feels like a foreign sting. She had done hard work that Maya couldn’t even push herself to do, confiding in video games instead of focusing on things beneficial to her future. This other ‘Maya’ has everything she has ever dreamed of. Everything she had ever wanted. Seeking respite from the mounting pressure, she opts on a walk around school. Taking in the surrounding scenery, so similar yet so different from the school she knows, she notices a poster in the middle of the hallway with loud, bold words: “Farewell Maya!” The letters pique her interest, sparking a sudden curiosity that compels her to inspect.
“Our beloved club and class president Maya has found a host family in the Foreign Exchange Student program! For four months, she’s studying abroad in the United States! Let’s send our star student off with a wondrous see you soon for her trip!”
Once again, Maya’s tears flow down, dampening her cheeks. She collapses to the ground, curling herself into a ball, rocking back and forth. She feels useless. Compared to this perfect version of her, who stands so tall, she’s insignificant. Teeth clenched, the self-loathing overwhelms her completely, drowning out any form of self-acceptance. Why can’t she be her? Is she just a failure? A defective product? Why does she have to be trapped in a cycle of being negatively compared to? Her questions towards herself are akin to sharp shards of glass, brutally cutting at her on the inside, each giving a deeper wound, unable to heal. She slams her fist into her arm, expecting a comforting sting of pain, an attempt to harm herself for comfort, but she feels nothing. Absolutely hollow.
Unaware to Maya, English class has ended. Her loud and ringing thoughts have drowned out the sound of the bell, another reminder of her being revoltingly pathetic, not even able to notice the loud ringing noise, something she always hears. Noticing the group of kids walking out the door, she listens into her better version’s conversation.
“Honestly, if I was a recluse, I’d attempt to do something about it; it’s not that difficult. Wasting my time being isolated? I’d go crazy! But if I was a mundane loser, to even try self-improvement, id—”
Her alarm rings.
Her nightmare is over. She’s back in her bed, but for a moment, she isn’t sure where she is.
Her thoughts don’t withdraw, and the lines of the doors and walls of the school building don’t fade away; instead, they haunt her, like cobwebs she cannot remove. Her hands sweat, her body trembling as the words said by ‘Maya’ bring a sharp ring that claws into her brain like a broken metronome. It carves every single syllable into her grey matter, making sure they will always stay as sloppy cursive, repeating eternally. The feeling of being betrayed by her own mind shakes her to the core, a sharp disconnection from her own body.
Turning her body towards the outward end of her bed, Maya touches deep into the back of her mouth with her finger, triggering her gag reflex, vomiting on the floor, hurling out everything she had needed to release in her dream. Being able to fuel her hunger by digesting her dinner was something she didn’t deserve anymore, after being slammed with such a grotesque glimpse of what could be her reality if she tried to improve. If she cannot take what has happened, she can’t grant herself the privilege of taking a meal. The acrid odor hits her nose sharply, the putrid texture becoming hell for her as it clings to her throat and drowns her from the inside, yet her shame feels more suffocating. But she deserves this hell, doesn’t she? Getting slightly used to purging her food felt awful; she felt as if she deserved to suffer the same unbearable discomfort that once sunk its claws into her when she first discovered this form of self-punishment.
After what happened, going to school wasn’t an option for her. She stares up at her ceiling, trying to take in and understand what’s just occurred in her dream. The next few moments are a fast, blurry sequence to her, including Mymy barging into her room to ask why she isn’t up yet, and her mother telling her siblings she cannot go today, as she’s “sick”.
Feeling more restless than she did before she fell asleep, trying her hardest to forget what happened, she boots up her computer and starts a game of The Sims.
Staring at her screen, she watches her characters interact with each other in ways she cannot. They have positive relationships, have fun, and speak freely—just like that ‘Maya’. It feels like she’s watching her all over again. Watching someone who’s just a mirror version of herself reach goals beyond her grasp, achieving things she’s “unable” to.
Nothing can drown out her thoughts. Nothing. She absorbs the blue light radiating from her computer screen, wishing this dream, this nightmare, will never, ever happen again.