I had woken up at about three in the morning.
It had been a few weeks since I had first talked to Niall and I had yet to meet him. Which was okay with me. Not that didn't want to meet him, it was just better for him to not know about how shaky I get when he first calls because I'm afraid I'll fuck up.
I went downstairs after just laying in bed for an hour. Walking into the living room, I stopped halfway, noticing the figure sitting on the couch. Whether I was facing death or my mother, I turned the light on.
"Mom," I breathed out. "What are you doing?" I asked.
"I couldn't sleep. Why are you up?" she asked. I shrugged.
"I'm sad." I mumbled.
"What do you mean, you're sad? Where did this come from?" she asked. I gaped at her. She's never noticed how I never leave the house? Or how I never really show much happiness raiding off of me? Was I happy to her?
"I can't get out of bed." I said.
"What do you mean?" she asked again.
"Mom, my depression is like a shape shifter. One day it is as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear. The next it's the bear. I call the bad days the dark days." I said.
"Why don't you try lighting some candles?" mom asks. And I sigh.
"When I see a candle I see a church. I'm standing beside your open casket. Its the moment I learn every person I come to know will some day die. Besides mom, I'm not afraid of the dark, maybe that's part of the problem." I said.
"I thought the problem was you can't get out of bed." she said.
"I can't. Anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house, inside of my head." I said.
"Where did anxiety come from?" mom asked.
"Anxiety is the cousin depression felt obligated to bring to the party. Mom, I'm the party, only I'm a party I don't want to be at." I said.
"Why don't you try going to actual parties?" mom asks.
"Sure I make plans. I make plans but I don't want to go. I make plans because I know I should want to go. I know that sometimes I would've wanted to go. It's juts not all that fun, having fun, when you don't want to have fun." I say.
"Happy is a decision." Mom said. And I stared at her, unsure of what to say. If happy was a decision, I'm not sure I would choose it.
"My happy is as hollow as a pin pricked egg. My happy is a high fever that will break." I said.
"You're so good at making nothing out of something." She mutters. I nod. "Are you afraid of dying?"
"No, I am afraid of living. Mom, I'm lonely." I said.
"I still don't understand." mom said.
"Mom!" I exclaim. "Can't you see that neither can I?!" I yell.
After this conversation I don't remember much. I went into the kitchen and made myself cereal, even though I didn't feel like eating, I ate it anyway. I called Niall an hour later, it was five in the morning and I had gotten extremely tired and I wasn't sure why I was calling him. After the fourth ring he answered.
"Hey, Nix. Do you want to catch a movie later?" he asked. I laid back on my bed and sighed.
"I would love to Niall. Text me when and where." I hadn't realized that I would be meeting Niall until five minutes of silence passed. "Wait a second." I mumbled. "Are we going to be meeting today? Did you take my drowsiness for granted? Niall Horan I am ashamed." I said.
"So are we still on?" he asked. "Cmon on, Nix. Its been like a month and a half and I just want to see you." he whined.
"Fine, Niall, gooooooood." I sighed playfully. "I'm not even sure why I called you I'm tired as hell now so ill talk to you later." I said.
"Bye, Nix see ya later." Niall said and I hung up, falling back to sleep.
A/n. The conversation between Nix and her mother is a poem I'm very fond, of both the poem and the writer. No copyright intended. i'll put a link of the poem under here for those who want to listen to it. I felt the poem really fit with the story so. all credit to Sabrina Benaim.
youtube.com/watch?v=aqu4ezLQEUA
