It’s kinda hard to focus when the background sounds are those that can obliterate you in an instant. Sometimes I think maybe that’s why they make shelter rooms soundproof. I’m ok though. My family is still there. Steering clear of open roads and long rides in cars or busses. But the sounds are still there. Hundreds of them. Falling all around. One of which came dangerously close to Jerusalem. Several ones in the center, and endless more in the south. People live and die and continue living and talking and saying things and hearing things like…
“I heard a boom.”
“My apartment was shaking.”
“We sleep in the shelter.”
“No trips to or from the south. Stay indoors.”
“[City name] is now harboring residents of cities under attack… whoops, scratch that. Said harboring city is now also under attack.”
“Color red. Color red. Color red.”
And yet, all I can think about is blank. It’s like everything shut down. I couldn’t care less about anything. If there’s a siren again, I pick up my dog, call out to my boyfriend and hurry into the shelter. But my face will reveal nothing. It will be as nonchalant as it is when I’m asleep.
I think that’s how we manage. Either make fun of it, or shut yourself down. It’s either that or go completely insane, catatonic…
“Well, we’re sure getting one hell of a workout,” they say with a sad smile. “Running to the shelter room, running out for a loaf of bread, running back in before the next siren…”
I try to think about December. The DIY things I have planned. Things that make me happy. Things that do not leave any room for nonchalance. I think about doing this and that and then I add “if I’m still alive by then, that is.”
And then it’s all about will I still live to see my next period? The next drop of rain? The next ray of sunshine? Ride the open road? Visit my parents?
Maybe. Maybe not. Who the hell cares?
And then people show that they do care.
“How are your parents?”
“Is your family ok?”
“My best wishes to you and yours.”
All of which mean “Are you guys still alive in there?”
I’m still alive. At least that’s what the muffled boom boom sounds in my ribcage say. But when the background sounds reiterate a deafening boom boom, a screech and a rumble, my brain shuts down again. No life in there.
None at all.