apocalypse, the answer

28.

RESISTANCE IS FUTILE

it's almost like he could read my mind. things were different, but also not. i was freaking out a lot. he understood why. he didn't seem to be bothered. i was losing it, slipping from the confines in my mind. somehow none of this even scared him at all.

but he's a killer. so.

i thought about telling him that i quite literally hallucinated him for a second, but i tried to forget about that. it wasn't important information for elias to know. somehow i still wanted to be understood.

there's a moment in life when you have to realize that your insanity can only really be understood by you. and if you tell someone you run the risk of losing them. so long as you're not hurting anyone else, keep it to yourself. at least, that was my philosophy about things.

nobody ever said anything about hurting yourself. i did that kind of thing all of the time. he wouldn't know the difference anyways.

so i didn't tell him about the bathroom floor. i just pretended it never happened. that's the best way to get over things i think.

elias was sleeping on the floor again. i could hardly use my hands after punching so hard. i had bandages on both.

"at least you look like a boxer," eli joked when he wrapped them up for me. he always knew what to say. he wanted to make me feel as normal as possible even when he knew i wasn't normal at all. i loved him for this reason.

i may be a writer. i may be good with words, but love is when a writer can recognize that the person they love is even better with words. in the moment i run the risk of looking like a psycho when i say what's on my mind. so i say nothing.

the idiot that i love spews nonsense all of the time. his words are lewd and unimportant sometimes, but that was the beauty of his mind. he was completely unbothered with his own opinion with me.

i wanted to wake him. so i did.

i leaned down and wrapped my arms around him. he stirred a little in his sleep. "you okay?" he said groggily. he hardly even opened his eyes before asking about me. he was so in love it annoyed me sometimes.

"you need to sleep on the bed," i reminded.

he whined, "i like the carpet," he muttered. "truth is...i sleep on the floor at my home," he yawned. he held up air quotes for the word home.

i raised an eyebrow at him. "why?" i asked.

he shrugged getting up and pushing himself into the bed lazily. "i sleep in a basement. least favorite child i guess," he muttered into the sheets.

i got in next to him and played with his hair. "stop using your hands," he chuckled. "it probably hurts still."

"but i-"

"don't finish that sentence," he says softly. he looked up at me with those eyes of his. i melted in them momentarily.

"we should leave today," he mumbled. i nodded. "i'll pack everything for you," he said. i nodded.

i was just lying there thinking. i guess i did that a lot.

would this be over soon?