Red Eye

Part Thirteen

I'm trying to remember the last conversation I had with someone- a true, honest, genuine conversation- and for the life of me, I can barely remember a single one.

Quick snip-its of coworker conversations replay themselves in my mind. Company gossip, comments about customers, thoughts about the weather, mild curiosity about how we spent our days off. But nothing truly memorable or meaningful.

I'm trying to remember the last thing I said to my parents, the last thing they said to me... and I'm not sure if it's from the exhaustion of everything that's happened or because of my strong desire to deeply bury that part of my life... but I honestly can't remember.

It was probably something bad. Something that should have never been said. Something that, once I remember it, will most likely be something I regret, something that will haunt me forever. It was probably something that was said in the heat of the moment, something that was shouted, something that was nearly choked down and fought its way out and demanded to be said. It was probably something that hurt.

I've never been outspoken, always kept my thoughts to myself. But what I wouldn't give right now to be outside of my head, to hear another person's voice. It's easy to be alone in a room full of people. At least in a crowded room, I could lose myself in the white noise of it all. But here, sitting on the floor of this abandoned place that would, under normal circumstances, be abuzz with a fury of sounds, I'm surrounded by a deafening silence.

Well... not necessarily "deafening." I can hear the dripping of the faucet behind the counter, hear the whispers of air that pass through the vents, the faint sizzle and crackle of the papers in the window loosening their grip and burning in the rising sun. 

Aside from the distorted audio that speaks in the videos I watch-- I don't think I can stomach watching any more of them-- I've almost forgotten what a real human voice sounds like. 

I know... in a way... it hasn't been that long since all of this started, only a few months... but time feels like it's stubbornly dragging itself along with each passing day despite there no longer being a need to count, to measure its progression. 

It's strange, feeling this way. Feeling this need to be around, to be with people. I've never needed anyone else, never needed to rely on someone else... for anything.  

I've thought about reaching out many times but, something keeps holding me back. Vulnerability has always scared me, being exposed in such a way, having to trust someone to such a degree. For me, it's always led to disappointment, led to pain that never truly heals. 

But it's the end of the world, or close to it anyway, and we're all in a bad place right now. If we don't have someone to hunker down with, hold hands with while everything falls apart around us, then we have nothing. 

The sense of community I've witnessed while scrolling through the ZASurvivors account is astounding. These complete strangers coming together to strategize and theorize, to support and encourage, even to descend into disagreements and engage in trivial fights. As inspiring as it is... it's also a bit sad.

It took such a dramatic event... a situation in which people are turning into the worst versions of themselves and literally tearing each other apart... for the scarce few to rally together. 

It's humbling to see how far we've had to fall to realize we can't survive standing alone.