Empty Connections

Chapter One

NOVEMBER: JUNIOR YEAR

I live with a thief. I've never seen their face, but I imagine they look as horrible as they make me feel, rotten, small, an inconvenience... every time something else inside of me goes missing, the worst part is that it feels like I am the only one that notices all the empty spaces.

Maybe because the empty pieces are so small that no one notices, it tears me down the middle as I fight with the relief that comes with them not seeing me and the pain of not being noticed when I fall apart. I'm not an idiot and try as I might being oblivious has never been something that I am good at, I know they notice something, but the group tends to partake in silent support.

I hear my words and reasoning every time I pull away, that it feels like no one cares but I know those feelings are my own fault, I am the one pulling away and yet I can't help blaming everyone else. It's a vicious cycle of knowing I'm the issue and not being able to fully grasp the knowledge of it.

If I'm being honest, I love it, I think if I was bombarded by their love and support, I would feel suffocated, and more prone to running away than I already am, almost as if the loneliness is as addictive as it is cruel. Only when things get too big to ignore do they start to talk about it, one-on-one of course because everyone has their own thing, and it seems to work for us.

I butcher it every time I try and explain it, my parents have never understood why I would want to be friends with any of them if they don't confront me or anyone else every time, they think something is wrong.

To parents, if you have no desire to talk about the situation it means that it isn't real, so when my parents ask if I am doing well in school, keeping on track and staying positive I have learnt that filling them with a bunch of crap about our group sharing sessions, is the best option. If I keep up the ruse it means they won't try and intrude, adding more to their plate than there already is.

Clearly, we do not do group sharing sessions, if we were all forced to sit in a circle once a week to share our feeling about everything in our life, I think we would have disbanded a long time ago. Just like in the world outside if college, we all have the person we feel like we are closest too and despite everyone being available it is kind of like we have a favourite.

The best example I can think of is Sophie and Claudia, those girls formed and within the first five minutes of meeting each other, they had the kind of bond that none of us could even try to compete with, not that we try. It's a complex dynamic to wrap your head around unless you are living in it and even then, sometimes I feel like I don't really know what is going on with everyone.

Rosie is home the most, always running back and forth looking after her sister and trying desperately to keep her family from imploding, I know she worries about me as well but if anyone is stretching themselves too thin it is her.

Everything around us is constantly spinning so fast that some days I don't even notice the thief has returned to steal a new part of me, to chip away at the resilience I have built until I am standing in the guest room of the boy's house, getting ready with all my friends and I realise that I feel hollow again.

It'll come and go, the numbness that comes after the realisation, it is self-inflicted, a defence mechanism I developed as a tactic when my parents started staring too long or tilting their heads in contemplation when they saw me.

The shame, my ability to understand and feel it is what comes and goes, but the illness, and I know I have it does not give me a reprieve and on days like today I don't want it too. It makes me better, and I have control over it all, or at least I have gotten good at convincing people I do.

I must remember to slap Rosie over the back of the head for convincing me she was good with a pair of scissors; I think she gets a little manic when her stress levels peak. At least I am going to accept that excuse as the reason I let her cut my hair at midnight the other day, she isn't studying hairdressing, nor does she have any experience with it and yet she felt confident enough in her abilities.