i write weird shit

I read a lot and I write sometimes. I also have scheduled existential crisis just to keep things interesting (INTJ 5w4)

[iwriteweirdshit]

Author *writes*: I looked around the white room bearing blue curtains.

English teacher: The white of the room denotes the purity and the innocence of the character while the blue curtains represent their deep underlying sorrow on losing their mother 96876860 years ago.

What the author actually meant: The room was literally so white because it was painted white. And the curtains were blue because I saw with my very own eyes that they were blue.

[iwriteweirdshit]

My brain one fine day: *comes up with multiple random ideas for writing*

Me: *gets super excited* Wow so many ideas! I can write so much with these!

Me on the very next day: Yesterday was great, now what do I write about today?

My brain: ...

Me: ...what. Should. I. Write. About. Today?

My brain: wHaT iS wRiTiNg??

[iwriteweirdshit]

Me: I have to write something new.

My brain: Then look for inspiration on Pinterest/Tumblr

Me: Good idea. Let's see

*3 hours later*

My brain: We're done. We're tired. Let's go to sleep

Me: ...but I haven't started writing yet

My brain: yOu sHoUlD hAvE tHoUght oF tHaT bEfoRe YoU wEnT oN pInTeReSt/tUmBlR

[aye-write]

[iwriteweirdshit]

If only I had the motivation and the continuous bursts of inspiration that I so wish for

[thatgirlandyboi]

Me after I finish writing the draft knowing I still have to edit and rewrite:

[iwriteweirdshit]

The pain

[stonedsable]

oops

[iwriteweirdshit]

Absolutely

[iwriteweirdshit]

Me: I need to write some new stories

Also me: *writes another continuation to the same comfort story for the 398465th time*

[iwriteweirdshit]

In A Zombie World

I am running. Running as fast as I can. I can see the rest of the people in my group running ahead of me. And I am following them as fast as my legs can carry me. Why you ask? Because there is a hoard of zombies running behind me. That’s why.

It started about a month ago. Humans started dying - but not quite dying. We’re not sure where the virus originated from. But we know that now...we are finally living the zombie apocalypse. But the apocalypse didn’t hit us as hard as one would expect. At least it didn’t hit the millennials and the gen z all that much.

Zombie movies, games and books have been preparing us for this all our lives. We practically grew up living these stories. Virtually, of course. Now that I see it in real life, it seems less fun than the games I played.

Zombies in real life are not as slow as advertised. Not as dumb as advertised. Imagine Patrick Star from Spongebob Squarepants. Patrick Star with an uncontrollable biting tendency. That is typically what most zombies are like. Very dumb and slower than living humans, but not as dead on their feet as movies have always told us. But that is just what most of the zombies are like. Some of them are still ‘smart’ - if you can call them that. They can still think - which makes them all the more dangerous.

Also, they don’t particularly moan or groan...unless they want to. They may groan due to running too much or if you hit them with a metal bat or something. Not from pain - just from the shock and/or force of it. Sometimes they even talk. It is creepy when they talk.

I will narrate this later, as I can see that I am lagging behind my group. None of them are stopping for me to catch up and I don’t exactly blame them. The zombies are getting closer, nobody would want to stick around.

Following them wouldn’t be of much help, I realized that just now. Oh, wait, I see a ladder that leads up to the roof of a building. If I get up there, I would probably be safer for the time being. I mean my group is ahead of me and there are more humans there so obviously most of the zombies will go after them instead of following only me. I said I understood their logic of not stopping for me, I didn’t say I wouldn’t do the same to them. It’s an apocalypse, after all. Everyone for themselves.

I have now taken a turn and am running towards the ladder. I look back to check behind me and, conveniently enough, none of the zombies have followed me so far. That’s great. But still, I’d rather not take any chances. I reach the grey, metal ladder. I am now climbing it.

I look down from the roof of the building. The zombies are still chasing my group as they run away screaming. I won’t lie, it is kind of fun to watch when you don’t have to worry about your own life for the time being. Is that mean? I no longer know. Hey, live in this world for a day and politeness will start feeling like a luxury!

I walk around the rooftop looking down on all sides. I guess I can stay here for a while. I take this opportunity to check on my weapons. I still have the metal baseball bat slung across my back with a rope. I still have a fully loaded pistol on my belt. In my other pocket, I have enough bullets to load the gun one more time. That’s all.

Now, where was I in my narration? Oh, yes. How different real lives zombies are compared to zombies we learnt about in fiction. We learn from many zombie shows and movies that you will probably hear them before you see them. But in real life, you don’t. They don’t make noises unnecessarily. That becomes a huge problem for humans because we don’t understand when any of them are around.

Thankfully they can’t smell us. They won’t know we are around unless they see us. Humans don’t have noses that powerful and they surely don’t have them after they half-die. You might wanna avoid perfumes though and other things that have a strong scent. Because they can smell that just like humans can.

Hold on, I hear something. It is coming from the staircase. I slowly walk towards the staircase with my gun cocked and ready to fire. I hear someone coming upstairs. “Hellooo,” they call. It sounds like a man. I look down the railing to the next flight of stairs below me. As expected, someone is coming up.

My gun touches the metal railing ever so slightly but manages to make a small clink of metal on metal. The man looks up at me. There is blood flowing down one side of his mouth. “Hah!” he says on seeing me. Zombie. See, I said it’s creepy when they talk. He starts coming upstairs faster than he already was. I back out of the stairwell and slam the door closed. I pick up a metal pipe that was lying nearby and put it through the handles on the door.

I hear loud knocks from the other side. “Hey open...door…” I hear the man on the other side say loudly. “F*** off!” I call back. I put my gun back in my belt and get my baseball bat ready in my hand instead. Just in case he manages to come in. Safety is the best policy, you see. Especially in an apocalypse.

“No open the door…” he says more clearly. I hear another set of footsteps getting louder on the other side of the door. “What? Why are you making noise?” I hear another woman’s voice say. “Open the door!” the man says. Maybe it took him a while to register what the woman said. I already said zombies are kinda dumb, didn’t I?

“One...outside,” are the only two words I can make out from the other side of the room. Now the woman joins the knocking game. “Come. Join us,” she says knocking on the door.

What sort of zombie peer pressure shit is this? Never in my wildest dreams have I ever imagined such civilized and annoying zombies. I don’t have to stand here and listen to them selling me zombie-hood. I walk over to the edge of the rooftop again and look down at the way I came up. It looks clear. I start climbing back down.

I walk around, trying to find my group again. I am getting hungry. But I have no food on me. Damn it. Damn it all. I think I hear screaming. Maybe, my group is there. I walk towards the source of the sound. It seems to be a two-storied warehouse or storage house of sorts. Wait a minute. This is where the other half of my group was supposed to be stationed when we left.

The zombies must have infiltrated it. Damn the zombies. My friends were part of this group. I run towards the warehouse with my bat ready at hand. The doors are open. Obviously.

The sound is coming from one of the upper floors. There are many stairwells leading to the upper floors. I follow the sound of a crash and a scream to one of the stairwells. I run towards the stairwell when I trip and fall because of a metal piece jutting out of a stack of boxes. It had scraped my thigh. I groan. But I get up and run towards the stairwell again, ignoring my wound. I don’t have the time to get hurt.

On reaching the upper floor I see that the door to this stairwell is locked from my side. There is a rectangular glass window on the upper side of the door. Through the glass, I can see a girl with black hair- a living girl - on the other side of the door with her back pressed against it.

I recognize her. It is Veronica. One of my friends. There are a few zombies at a little distance away from her, slowing inching forwards. They must have realized that she can’t escape. That’s probably why they aren’t hurrying.

I don’t see anyone else from our group around. Considering how scatterbrained Veronica is, I’m guessing she got left behind because of one of her own mistakes. I don’t have time to be thinking about how dumb she can be.

I unlock the door quickly from my side and pull it open. Veronica falls back as the door suddenly opens and lands on her butt. I quickly close the door and bolt it again as the zombies pick up their pace. They crash against the door as a group with their hands on the glass looking disappointed as they watch us.

“Zoey?” she asks, horrified and startled. “Yes, me. We have to get out of here,” I say and offer my hand to pull her up. She seems too startled and terrified to reach out for my hand. This confused creature - no wonder she got left behind. So, I forcefully grab her arm, pull her up and sink my teeth into her arm.

I remove her arm away from my mouth, a trickle of blood running down the side of my mouth as she gapes at me, still horrified. And I laugh - at me and the situation and the world and everything else - as I wipe the blood away from my mouth and the realization hits me. Looks like I have been a zombie for a while now. It’s not that bad.

[iwriteweirdshit]

Me: *doesn't like reading tragedies*

Also me: *develops tragic dark turns for every story when writing* why am I like this

[hklunethewriter]

There are three writing states of mind

or

or sometimes

there is no in between

[iwriteweirdshit]

Yes. Yes that is right.

[starless-shadows]

me: alright, let's actually write something soft and cozy and light-hearted this time, happy ending, happy chara-

brain: hey what about this super dark plot twist

me: that's fucking genius

[iwriteweirdshit]

If this isn’t me, I don’t know what is.

[iwriteweirdshit]

I Dreamt The World Had Ended

Everything was in ruins. There were small fires all around me. The buildings that were once standing in this very city, were now completely in shambles. I didn’t understand why I was seeing this view, standing in the midst of the end of the world. I was the only one around - at least the only one who was still alive. The rubbles were littered with bodies. All dead and crumpled into heaps due to the destruction. There were pools of liquids on the ground - colourless, red, grey and black - that I didn’t want to investigate the sources of.

That’s when I heard a loud rumbling sound coming from my side. I looked that way, and to my horror, the first few floors of a skyscraper that were still standing seemed to be tipping towards me. I realized I wouldn’t survive if I stood there any longer. I started running, as fast as my legs could carry me. The tipping building was getting louder - groaning under its own weight. I started running even faster - even though all the rubble around me caused a lot of resistance. I saw myself running out of the shadow of the collapsing building. Just then the building fell to pieces behind me, sending shockwaves of wind and dust through the air and vibrations through the earth. The wave hit me from behind like a speeding car and threw me a few feet forward.

I woke up with tears streaming down my face, as I gasped for breath. I was still in my room. The walls were still the same pale purple. The windows were open and golden sunlight was pouring in. The soft breeze coming in through the windows ruffled the translucent curtains, making them look liquid.

It was just a dream, I thought, still panting quite hard. I wiped my eyes and took deep breaths to calm down. I had always been fascinated by dystopian fiction but actually entering an apocalyptic world - even in a dream - was absolutely nerve-wracking.

I made a mental note to joke less about the end of the world and got out of bed. My heart rate was slowly calming down. I brushed my teeth in the bathroom before leaving my room.

Shyra, my sister, seemed to be awake for a while already when I visited her room on my way downstairs. She was reading a book, sitting on her bed. She looked up from her book as I entered the room. “You look weird. What happened?” she asked, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I dreamt the world had ended,” I said. “That must have been a good dream for you then. All you do is talk about apocalypses of all sorts,” she said, looking back at her book.

“Surprisingly, I wasn’t that fond of it,” I said, “Now, let’s go for breakfast.” Shyra looked at me over her book again. “You didn’t like the end of the world? How surprising,” she said, studying me, “From the way you keep obsessing over it, one would think you would throw a party if the world did end.”

“Just drop it,” I said, holding the door open as a signal that it was time for breakfast and she should come with me. Shyra shrugged and followed me out of her room after plopping her book on her bed.

The smell of fresh pancakes wafted out of the kitchen. Our parents greeted us as we entered. Our father was sitting on his usual seat at the table and reading a newspaper. He was scoffing distastefully at any news article that disappointed him, as he always did. Mom was making the pancakes that I smelt.

I and Shyra seated ourselves on our usual spots as Mom set our plates down in front of us. Our father put his newspaper aside and turned to us as he picked up his fork. “So what’s new?” he asked. “I was just reading a book after I woke up, so nothing new. But someone had a dream that they didn’t like,” Shyra said. “Ugh,” I said, annoyed, as Dad turned to ask me what dream I had.

“I dreamt the world had ended, okay! Jeez,” I said, groaning. As expected that made both my mom and dad look at me. “After all the situations you already fantasized about the end of the world?” Mom asked, looking surprised.

“Can we all just drop it?” I said, stabbing at my pancakes moodily. I was actually getting annoyed. Why does Shyra always have to annoy me?

After breakfast, I was playing games in my room. The game was about a zombie apocalypse. As usual. I wasn’t really feeling apocalyptic right then but killing a bunch of zombies did help me with much-needed stress relief.

There was a knock on my door. “If you are here to annoy me more, don’t come in,” I called out while playing the game. I heard the door open and then an extremely loud noise, which turned out to be nothing but a greeting, “HELLOOO!”

“What?!” I said turning to look at the door, startled. That was when I noticed that it wasn’t Shyra at all like I thought. Jason and Martha had arrived. “What’s wrong with you people, damn it,” I said exasperated at my friends.

“What, we thought we would give you a surprise,” Jason said with a chuckle. “It was his idea, not mine,” said Martha, sounding as tired as Jason sounded excited. Martha always sounded tired - kind of like an old woman.

Jason joined me at the game, picking up the spare console, while Martha casually lay down on my bed on her side facing us. And we talked. It was fun. We spoke of all the people we hated in school and then of all the people we liked in school. This was one of our typical topics of conversation. We joked about everything and everybody.

“Oh, I just remembered. You thought it was Shyra when we knocked, didn’t you?” Martha asked. “Yep, did,” I said as I got a clear headshot on a zombie. “What is she annoying you about today?” she asked. “Eh, nothing much,” I replied, concentrating more on the game than I should’ve been. It was getting on my nerves at that point. I had a certain image to maintain. I was the one that was fascinated by apocalypses and now I had to admit that actually seeing that in a dream scared me? That was so unlike me.

“Come on, tell us!” Jason said, elbowing me on my arm, without looking away from the screen. “I had a dream that I didn’t like,” I said. I knew they wouldn’t leave me alone until I told them. “Well?” Jason said when I didn’t continue, “What was the dream?”

I sighed. “I dreamt the world had ended,” I said, grudgingly repeating myself for the third time since I woke up. “And you didn’t like it?” Martha said. “No, I did not. There was rubble and corpses everywhere okay, and I almost got crushed by a building,” I said in my defense.

Jason burst out laughing, forgetting about the game. “YOU DIDN’T LIKE THE END OF THE WORLD?! YOU?!” Jason said, laughing. Martha snickered. “Oh, shut up,” I said, but I did see what was so funny about it so I couldn’t exactly be mad. “Give her a break, Jason. A building was about to fall on her,” Martha said, suppressing her laughter.

That made Jason laugh even harder. Jason had very contagious laugh so I couldn’t exactly help myself from laughing slightly too. Then a little more. At one point I could only hear my laughter as it rang over the two of their voices. Then I couldn’t hear them at all. I could just see them talking and laughing. And I started hearing a sharp high-pitched sound that you can sometimes hear when everything is too silent.

I woke up, still hearing the sharp high-pitched noise. My body hurt all over. I somehow turned my head to look behind and saw more rubble, which, until a few moments ago, had been the building that collapsed. I was now conscious and then I finally realized. I was wrong about my dream. I dreamt the world hadn’t ended. And it was so good.

[iwriteweirdshit]

Welcome To A Day In My Life

[Prompt used:  A day in the life of a genie who annoyingly keeps getting summoned by inept humans.

Prompt source: reedsyprompts (fantasy section)]

Hello to all Witches and Wizards of Magitopia! Welcome to my first blog entry. Do you ever think about your life? Like really think about it? What do you do if you are in your mid-twenties, have a very boring life and already feel like you are stuck at a dead-end job?

You start a blog, of course. To express your feelings and emotions and reach out to other magifolk and all that bullcrap. I don’t know how many people will actually read this blog but I really don’t care at this point, because I am tired. Utterly and completely tired.

So, for my first post, I thought I would talk about a day in my life. Spoiler warning: it sucks! :)

For this, I have decided to site the example of yesterday because it was royally annoying - as most of my days are. That should pretty much paint a vivid picture of how my life usually is. So, I woke up once again at seven in the morning - half asleep and wishing I was either still asleep or better yet - dead. I made myself the reviving potion that humans call coffee. I drank it slowly, feeling grateful for its existence.

I did a little bit of workout to take a break from my usual, sedentary lifestyle. Then I checked my phone to see how things were going with all the magifolk that I know. There were a few texts from my mom. In one, she tried to subtly hint at my non-existent love life and asked “Have you been on any dates recently or are you still spending all your time alone?” I was kidding. Nothing about my mom is subtle. She is way too direct about everything. Not that I have an issue with it.

The second text spoke of the dinner we are supposed to have together this weekend. The third and last text said “I AND YOUR DAD LOVE YOU, HONEY HAVE A GOOD DAY TODAY”

She must have forgotten about the caps lock button we talked about again. I should probably tell her. I took a note of it and decided to do it later. I haven’t gotten to it yet. “Have a good day too, mom. Love you. Tell dad I love him too” I typed and hit send.

There were some more texts there but nothing worth mentioning. I checked them all and replied to the ones that required replies. Then I made breakfast. Nothing too fancy, just milk and cereal. I ate it by the kitchen counter.

The time for me to go to work was approaching so I changed into my work clothes. Oh, did I mention I work at Genie Inc.? As I said, the perfect example of a dead-end job for my dead soul. At least I work in the Young Adults’ department. Magifolk who work in the Children’s department have to be in blue body paint and weird clothes because that is apparently what humans think genies look like for some strange and obnoxious reason.

I don’t understand this. Why blue? Perhaps the humans couldn’t decide on a skin colour without getting into their petty issues like racism and all that? That’s why they chose a colour that humans could never have as their skin naturally? But we are not blue. We are pale green. Is that so hard to think up?

Those who don’t understand the name of the company I work at are welcome to the club, because I don’t get it either. Genie is a stupid word that a stupid human invented one fine day and decided that it should be used for the wizard that appeared out of a dimensional portal. Okay so yeah, our dimensional portals look a little like ‘lamps’ that humans use, but the shape is integral to its functioning. I’m not saying I understand the functioning of it. I’m just saying that there must be some reason - that I couldn’t care less about.

Either way, so that flawed and dumb reasoning on the part of the humans gave some wizards the idea to start a company named Genie Inc. where witches and wizards could work. Genie Inc spread out a whole lot of dimensional portals - or ‘magic lamps’ as humans call it - throughout their planet, Earth. You can’t see me but I am rolling my eyes right now. ‘Magic lamp’. Those dumb creatures.

It’s a business where each human that finds a dimensional portal can ask for three wishes and in return, we take a part of their soul. Soul can be converted into magic. Which we use as a resource on our planet, Magitopia, as we all know. The humans, however, think they are getting their wishes for free. Those idiots.

Anyway, I arrived at the Genie Inc. building and sighed, looking at the skyscraper. The huge glassy building spiralled towards the sky in front of my eyes. Humans have plain block-shaped buildings on their planet - can you believe that? Different shapes obviously look much better on buildings than the same cubes and cuboids they build everywhere. I mean look at this spiral!

I was sitting at my cubicle and waiting for the summons from my clients to start coming. I knew it was going to be a drag. The first summon came. I looked at the screen on the industrial-grade dimensional portal that I had on my office desk. Ugh not his idiot again, I thought. I thought about ignoring the summon but then remembered the last time I had gotten a warning from my boss for ignoring a client’s summon - the same client that was calling yesterday. I told him that this so-called client was a teenage boy who kept summoning me even after his 3 wishes were over. But my boss wouldn’t listen.

I grudgingly hit the Accept button and got sucked in through the portal. The other portal spewed me out on earth in front of my ‘client’. “Hey! I have a new wish!” said the kid. He had curly blond hair, thick black glasses, a freckled face and Carl as his name. I gave a professional smile with as much patience and resilience that I could muster and said, “You have already completed your quota of 3 wishes. To renew the pack you have to pay in terms of Soul- I mean, you have to give a part of your soul.” As if we weren’t already charging in terms of Soul. All business strategy. Making them think they had a choice in the matter.

“But I don’t wanna give my soul!” he whined. Too late, kid. “I’ll be leaving then,” I said and returned to Magitopia before he could whine anymore. I got a few calls from teenagers that day. Anisha was a new client. There were Steve and Kim on their second wishes each. Another 20-year-old named Robin was on her last wish. I got a call from a 13-year-old named Sofia who asked for a castle. Yes, because it is just that easy. She didn’t know that it would mean that a much larger part of her soul would be taken as payment because of it, compared to the usual “I wish she would love me back” or the “I wish I had the best grades in class”.

Sofia’s wish took me the longest to establish. I had to format the memories that everybody she knew had of her and implant the memory of her always having owned a castle. I had to change her parents’ memories so that they remembered getting a castle somehow - despite inconsistencies like the fact that they lived in a small apartment in a city and didn’t have enough money to do so at all. In short, Sofia was tedious work.

Carl and Nathan called me a bunch of times throughout the day. Carl had called me once while I was working on Sofia’s wish. I got so agitated with him that instead of appearing before him, I just turned the audio on and shouted, “NOT NOW, CARL!” That turned a few heads from the cubicles around me. I still haven’t gotten in trouble for that incident but I think I probably will.

Nathan is another annoying human who decided he has a crush on me. A stupid and annoying decision, really. Stupid for him. Annoying for me. I have had a few other such ‘clients’ who have claimed to either be in love with me or have a huge crush on me. This is why I don’t like working in the Teens/Young Adults’ department. All these human children going through their sad adolescent phases and deciding nobody understands them. Makes them do all kinds of stupid things - like claiming to be in love with an alien. Specifically, an alien that hates the whole human race.

At least I don’t have to put on blue body paint and wear weird clothes like the magifolk that work in the Children’s department. So, silver linings I guess.

So, basically, what I’m trying to say is that it was a tough day at work. Yesterday was as dull as the rest of my days. After work, I logged off from the corporate Portal-net and left for my apartment. On my way, I picked up some junk food and ate it after getting home.

Whatever little friends I had were going to be busy that night, I knew that. It was a weekday. So I ended up binge-watching the show G.E.N.I.E again. It is a sitcom about a bunch of people who work as genies for Genie Inc. They make it seem funny on the show but nothing about being a Genie is funny. It is sad. And it is exhausting.

I ordered some food for dinner, after eating which I went to sleep, knowing I will have to wake up and live the same day all over again after the weekend is over.

So that is what a typical day in my life is like. Thankfully it is the weekend and I didn’t have work today. So I decided to start this blog now since I have some free time. I have absolutely no expectations from this blog so let’s see where it goes. I am getting late for dinner at my parents’ where my mother can pester me about my life to her heart’s content. So I gotta go. See y’all at my next post. (:

[iwriteweirdshit]

Back When Things Were Fine

[Prompt used:  Write a story about a character who’s nervous to attend a party - their first in a long time.

Prompt source: reedsyprompts]

My hands shook as I opened the door to my closet. Why am I doing this? I thought. Wasn’t going out of the house once a week enough? Did I necessarily have to decide to go today? But I didn’t decide it at all, I reminded myself. I was talked into it.

Cynthia came to visit again last night, as she always does. “You can’t come and go as you please anymore, Cyn. We’re broken up,” I reminded her despite holding the door open for her to enter. Maybe I should stop doing that. I’ll keep it in mind. ”Then maybe you should stop allowing me in, Nate,” she said in her ever-so-musical voice, giving me that beautiful smile that always threatened to pull me back to the old days. Yes, that is exactly what I was thinking, I said to myself in my head.

I loved her once - maybe I still do. But we just can’t be together anymore, I firmly reminded myself, we cannot. After all, it was she who broke up with me. “So I heard you are going to Dan’s party tomorrow night?” she asked, sitting down gracefully on my couch. Was she always this graceful? I couldn’t tell. “It wasn’t my first choice,” I said leaning against the kitchen door which directly faced the couch where she was sitting, “Abby and Dan forced me. They say I have been stuck at home for too long.”

“Ah, Dan. Good old Dan. How is he?” Cyn asked. “Fine,’ I replied shortly. “And Abby,” Cynthia said with a mean smirk, “How is sweet Abby? Are you both hitting it off.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Is that why you are here, Cynthia? To make sure I am not with anyone else since you left me?”

“Oh come on, Nate, don’t be such a baby. You know it’s not my fault that I left you,” Cynthia said brushing off my annoyance with a wave of her hand. “Oh really? Then whose fault is it, Cynthia? Whose fault is it that you left me that day? Whose fault is it that I have to see a psychiatrist at least once every week?” I said, my voice rising gradually with each word I spoke. That seemed to make her stop talking for the time being.

“People keep telling me to stop letting you in,“ I said, my anger turning sour with heartbreak that threatened to return again, “And yet, like an idiot, I keep letting you mess with my head.” I looked away. When I looked back at her, she was already standing right in front of me. I didn’t realize when she arrived or how she came to me so fast. She was always sneaky like that. “That is because they are all jealous,“ Cynthia said, softly, as she brushed back the hair falling over my eyes, “Jealous that they will never have what we have.” What we had, I thought, tasting bitter feelings in my mouth.

I don’t remember what happened after that. I think we had a fight. But when I woke up, she was no longer there. So I’m guessing she must have left. Also, I had woken up on my couch for some reason. I must have fallen asleep here and I don’t remember it because I was so angry. My psychiatrist had asked me to contact her whenever I had gaps in my memory but this one seemed pretty straightforward and justified, so I didn’t call her.

Remembering last night is not going to help me survive the party, I thought to myself as I reached into the closet and pulled out my dark grey suit. I put on my clothes, regretting every second of it. But it took me way longer than usual because of how much I fumbled with them, courtesy of my social anxiety and shaking hands.

I stood in front of the mirror and decided to not wear the tie. That would make the suit look more casual for the party. Suddenly, I felt very thirsty. Nerves. I need to calm my nerves, I thought as I drank water from a bottle nearby. It’s just a party. It’s just a few people. I’ll be fine. What’s the worst that can happen?

I froze as soon as I entered Dan’s house. There were more people there than I had imagined. And as soon as I was noticed, they all seemed to collectively turn and look at me. I started hyperventilating. They knew I was not okay. They knew how much I was dreading coming here. They knew-

“Hey, Nate! Natey! Natebro, Nate-mate! You came!” Dan greeted me in his ever-so-weird way, appearing out of thin air and blocking out my terrifying thoughts. I was actually grateful for that. “Hey, Dan. You won. I arrived,” I said, trying to smile in a way that made it seem as if I was being asked to do so at gunpoint.

“Hey, Abby! Look who’s here!” Dan was loud. Abby arrived through the crowd. “Nate, you came! How are things hanging?” she asked with a warm smile. Abby is just a friend, Cyn didn’t need to worry about her, I thought, my mind travelling back to the night before. I shook the thoughts away - I didn’t need to think about Cynthia right then. I was with friends.

Dan and Abby knew how I was with people - especially new people. So they only took me around people that I was already familiar with, that too not too many at a time. They knew how badly being around too many people overwhelmed me.

At one point, Dan had left to welcome other guests and I was just standing at a side of the room with Abby. I was not feeling very good. There were too many people in my line of vision. Abby must have noticed my discomfort because she said, “You wanna go someplace quieter?”

“That would be a good idea actually,” I said with a short but relieved chuckle.

We went up to one of the rooms and sat down on the chairs that were there. “So how has life been treating you lately,” Abby asked, perhaps trying to make me more relaxed with a friendly conversation. Don’t mention Cynthia, I told myself. “Well, as normal as it can be,” I said, making the answer sound as normal as possible. “You have not been leaving your house in so long, we were getting worried. I’m glad you came today,” she said, actually sounding relieved.

“Sorry I made you guys worry,” I said and actually meaning it, “But I’m fine, really. I have started working again, just from home. I am attending all appointments with my psychiatrist regularly. And I sometimes go for walks.”

“That’s great to hear. So anything new that I should know about?” she asked playfully while poking me on my arm. “Uh...what can I say...” I said. Don’t mention Cynthia. Don’t mention Cynthia. Don’t mention Cynthia. “...Cynthia came to visit me again last night.” Damn it.

Abby’s entire demeanour changed immediately. “What are you saying, Nate? You saw her again?” she asked, her face completely losing the smile she had just moments ago. “I didn’t see her on purpose, okay? She came to meet me,” I said, trying to reassure her that things were fine.

She didn’t seem to take the bait. “Have you spoken to your psychiatrist yet?” she asked seriously. “No, but I don’t need to. I’m fine. We just talked,” I said, trying to make myself sound as convincing as possible. “But Nate, you shouldn’t even be seeing her, let alone talk!” Abby said. She sounded both worried and upset. What was she getting upset about? I’m the one who met Cynthia. I’m the one who she broke up with. Even if I were seeing my ex-girlfriend, it shouldn’t be affecting or bothering Abby in any way. Even though she was my friend.

“Can we just drop the subject?” I asked, getting slightly annoyed. “No, we cannot drop it, Nate! You need to call your psychiatrist immediately or I will,” she said with a sort of finality to her tone. “Are you ordering me, Abby? Because, the last time I checked, I am old enough to make my own decisions,” I said, my temper rising, “I know I have been weird since our break up but believe me I can handle Cynthia.”

“Since your break up?” Abby said, sounding both incredulous and upset, “It doesn’t matter, I’m calling Ms. Brown.” She started looking up my psychiatrist’s number on her phone. “Will you just stop that?” I said grabbing her wrist to keep her from dialing Ms. Brown. “I am not bothering anyone and I am completely fine! We broke up an entire month ago! So what’s the problem?!”

“Let go of my hand, Nate. You are not fine,” Abby said, staring directly into my eyes. “What is the big deal? It was just a breakup! Everybody goes through breakups! Everybody faces and recovers from heartbreaks! They still see their exes occasionally! What is so bad about that?!” I asked completely frustrated, still holding Abby’s wrist. Maybe Cyn was, in fact, right. People were jealous of us.

“Because you can’t see her anymore, Nate!” she said, her eyes pleading and burning into me at the same time. “Why not?!” I asked, my temper rising even more. “Because-” she said and stopped as if she couldn’t make herself complete the sentence. But I didn’t ask her what she was going to say. I didn’t have to. The way she looked at me made it all very clear. And I remembered.

I remembered why I was so scared of coming to this party. I remembered why I was so afraid of seeing people again. Because I knew they would make me remember. I removed my hand from Abby’s wrist and let her dial the number. She was right. I shouldn’t be seeing Cynthia. It was not right. I shouldn’t have let her in again. It wasn’t even a breakup like I had argued - the kind that everybody faced.

I watched Abby call Ms. Brown as Cyn’s musical laughter rang in my ears. I wished things were still fine. What I wouldn’t give to travel through time and go back when things were fine. What I wouldn’t give to go back when Cynthia was still alive.