The Void Between Stars: Book 4 Of The Orion Series

Vunerability

[Mild trigger warning for deep dive analysis of depression]

Talking even briefly about Tristan had me rattled. Even though I went to my room I couldn't sleep, and I found myself pacing. Occasionally I'd try to figure out how to open the elaborate window so I could smoke, but I kept striking out. I was starting to think you couldn't--there certainly didn't seem to be any sort of lever or lock. So instead I paced around my room, plagued with horrible thoughts once more. I thought about how maybe, if given enough time, I'd get over Tristan.

Who was I kidding though, really? Time doesn't heal jack. If any quantifiable amount of time actually healed wounds, I wouldn't be as fucked in the head as I was.

I wouldn't have panic attacks. I wouldn't blurt out angry shit that I shouldn't say, even if I meant it in the moment. I'd feel, maybe, like I belonged somewhere.

That was the shitty thing about everything. For the first time ever, Tristan made me feel like I matched someone. It was a, "oh, you get me," moment. I only showed people the parts of me that I wanted them to see. I know, most people do that. Everyone strives to put their best foot forward. After a point though, I had been putting on a façade for so long I started to forget who I was to begin with.

I knew it was partially depression. Yet I couldn't nail myself down. Was I Orion Bauwens, dweebie kid back in grade school who sang in the church choir? Was I destructive Orion Bauwens who tried to trick everyone he wasn't miserable by being an absolute goof? Was I Orion Bauwens--rockstar, jazzhands--confident and sexy? Was I shameless and daring?

Was I drunken Orion Bauwens? Even drunken Orion had different facets. Was I fun Orion Bauwens, cracking jokes and making an ass out of myself? Texting people at all hours of the morning because I was plastered and actually felt good, so I got chatty? Or was I sad, drunk Orion, the one everyone felt bad for? The broken one, the pathetic, sniveling one, introspective and rambling. Or maybe I was angry drunk Orion, who snarled if you looked at him the wrong way. Orion, who wouldn't listen to reason and trash hotel rooms.

But Tristan? He was special. When my mind was a jumbled mess, and I couldn't rightly figure myself out, or what I actually meant or was feeling, he could. He took away the stress of trying to explain what was going on in my head when I myself didn't even understand it.

I knew that was a large part of where my anger came from. How do you tell people you're always sad? How do you tell people your own skull feels like Hell? How do you tell people that you'd like nothing more than to tell them what the fuck is wrong with you, but you don't even known yourself? That you're just this ball of malcontent. That my life felt like I was living in a fucking nightmare day in and day out. How do you admit that I never had anyone teach me how to love myself, so I didn't? I didn't have anyone tell me I held worth, so in my own mind I became worthless? How do you explain to people your own apathy towards yourself and your own happiness weighs heavily on your chest, day in and day out?

Those reasons are why when someone says something stupid, or that I think is stupid, I lose my patience. I get sarcastic, or I outright lose my temper. It's not even that I'm losing patience, it's that I didn't have any to begin with. All my fucks have been given already. I'm missing patience because there are so many problems...I've been through so much absolute shit...that I don't have time for stupidity.

Yeah, I sound like an egotistical maniac, like I have all the answers. But if people just married their lips sometimes and shut the fuck up and thought instead of speaking, the world would be a better place. But no, everyone is so wrapped up in their own shit, nobody cares. And that's why I took it upon myself to care.