The Light and the One Just Like Me

Third Notebook

(Once more, Suicide and panic attacks warning: If you are currently mentally unstable, please click off. Suicide is by no means encouraged, and please do seek help if needed.)

I had always thought that the human mind was made up of glass. A single event that might've hit it a little harder than intended could easily shatter it into little pieces that can't be undone. Of course, if the pieces are big enough, you can always glue them back into the illusion that nothing has ever happened to them. But it is not true. Any closer inspection, and it'll be obvious. There will be lines there that drew across the glass, something left behind by the once broken pieces to remind you that it won't ever truly be fixed.

When Rachel died and her sister showed up at my door, I saw that happen in real time. Not the moment that it had broken, but I did see the aftermath. The broken pieces of glass lay hopelessly on the ground, unable to be mended on its own. And while time might be able to 'fix' it, it won't ever return to its original form. Rachel won't ever come back from the dead, and there will always be that visible line of pieced-together broken glass, unable to be mended or covered. The cracks will always be there until the day comes when her sister will join her in the place of no returns.

I knew that. I have always known that. But to think it's so deadly, so painful, is something that had never crossed my mind.

Just like with Rachel, I've lost people to death before. And just like with Rachel, none of them really changed my view on life or what I had planned to do going forward. They never hit the glass that resides within my head. And even if there was an unpleasant feeling that came with the voice in my head blaming me for Rachel's unfortunate ending, all that ever did was leave a tiny scratch. One that is easily neglected. One that would go unnoticed.

This was what I was used to, what I thought losing someone felt like. Nothing would've ever prepared me for this. The moment that my glass plate broke into a trillion unfixable pieces. And the feeling that followed after that made me want to cut myself open and rip everything out. One by one. Leaving me as nothing but an unrecognizable, empty container that was once a living body for a living being.

School was back in full action. And even if it was already a month since we were back, everyone still looked so happy and excited about the oncoming year, because they all function mainly on adrenaline, which was going to wear off within three months as the reality set in. I was back to doing what I always do, sit in the very back of the class with my headphones on and ignoring everyone for as long as I possibly could before the teachers came in, and I'll have to put everything away in order to not get in trouble.

Looking out the window, I saw Christopher. Not very clearly since the morning sun's reflection had turned half the glass into a mirror, but he is there, looking right at me with his despicably normal face. I looked away. I didn't feel like torturing myself that day.

The day continued like how you would expect a typical school full of teenagers to be. The teachers still had a bit of patience in them that wouldn't last until next week, and my classmates were as energetic as always, leaving no mercy for the two kids in the front who actually did wish to learn so early in the morning. None of the questions taught were actually challenging enough to keep my attention for long, so I had resulted to daydream away as I lay on my table.

Everything was normal until it was not. It was apparent to me when I got home that day that something was wrong. Walking in through the door, announcing my presence to pay respect to the ones that were present, it had occurred to me almost instantly that something was wrong.