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that day, mum went to work. it was a saturday, so i had no school. it was raining, the grey clouds were hanging low and crying over the people passing by. i was standing at the window.

the people hurried outside. a yellow-white taxi hadn't let someone overtake and now the drivers were standing and waiting for the police to arrive. an ambulance rushed past. i sighed and felt how small i was. no person noticed me looking out the window. the adults always looked down at their feet, holding the black umbrellas above themselves. the children hurried behind them, dragged along with their hands squeezed in the adult's paw. prisoners in a line. the wind blew and i closed the window after a moment.

the apartment was small — kitchen, living room, and bathroom. we didn't have a table or a bed. we ate on a cardboard box and slept on a mattress. trying to distract myself from the gloomy weather, i went into the kitchen. the fridge was empty apart from a cup of instant noodles. mum left a note on the package. i was hungry, but decided against it.

it was one of those days when you don't want to do anything. i wanted to simply lie down, close my eyes, and imagine that i was gone. so i did just that. i imagined how mum's life would have changed, had i never been born. she would have probably lived in a house somewhere in iceland. she always wanted to go there. it was her dream. but she was here now, with me. in a small apartment in the centre of the city. it was raining.

when i opened my eyes i saw the cracked ceiling of the room. the lamp hung above me and i saw its sharp edges glint at me. i wanted it to fall and crush me under its elegant metal rods. i wanted these things often — to fall out of a window or for a car to hit me, accidentally, of course. but the thing i wanted the most was to close my eyes and not open them again.

i tossed over to my side and tried to sleep but there was something pressing on my chest. i had trouble breathing. i thought about what mum would say when she finds me here, unmoving. she would come home and say 'here i am!'

but nobody would reply or run up to her. she would start calling my name, anxiously taking off her shoes. she was always anxious about me. i would be lying on the mattress, pale, with closed eyes. mum would come up to me and feel my forehead. and then she'd try and wake me up but i would continue lying there. and then she'd start crying.

i was not afraid of dying, but i was afraid of making my mum sad. sometimes i wished she didn't love me so much. then she wouldn't be so sad and i could die.

i opened my eyes. tears were rolling across my cheek leaving a small puddle on the mattress. i looked over at the clock on the wall. in an hour, mum would be here. i will smile again and tell her that everything is fine. i started smiling at her last month when she noticed my bad mood. she asked me if everything was all right and i said 'yes'. i couldn't sleep that night. i just cried silently into the pillow.

i stood up and opened the balcony door. we lived on the eighth floor. i looked out the window. it was a long way down. i felt a sudden sense of indifference. i did not care about my mum or my school friends or my cat that was never bought but always promised before mum and dad got divorced. everything in life felt like a film i was watching. i was just a viewer, getting bored from it all. i didn't care whether i fell down or not. i stood on my tiptoes.

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i don't know how long i stood there. i heard a click in the door. i was feeling nauseous and i felt a pang of pain in my stomach. i remembered that i haven't eaten today. when i heard mum's footsteps, i left the balcony and closed the door.

mum asked me what i was doing there and i replied that the room was hot and i was letting in fresh air. she squatted next to me and hugged me. she asked me how i was doing.

"i'm okay," i said. i closed my eyes and thought that if i repeat this lie enough times, maybe it will become true. "i'm okay," i thought.

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