A slow fall

Chapter 5 - Caleb

    I didn't like being alone, yet I didn't particularly like the alternative either.

When no one was with me all I had were my thoughts—things too overwhelming for me to comfortably be alone with, but around too many people I felt suffocated. Things that used to be easy—laughing and joking—now felt like a struggle. A weight pressing down on me that I wasn't strong enough to lift. I needed help.

Even when I'm with my brothers and friends, I could still feel the weight on me, making it hard to breathe.

It felt like there were endless expectations placed upon me that I couldn't meet. I wondered if everyone could see my mistakes too—my sins and my flaws.

Over time, it's become easier to keep a facade up in front of others. At this point I barely even notice I'm doing it, but part of me knows that's not okat—I shouldn't have to hide myself away like that in the first place, should I?

I wished Lucas could've stayed on the phone with me for longer, he provided a sense of comfort I didn't realise until he was gone. Until his melodic laugh playing through the speakers and his soft tone of voice, telling me random stories and entertaining gossip I didn't understand, left to go to the gym with his roommates.

He offered to spend time with me, "screw those guys" were his words, and I debated saying yes, but I didn't want him to change his plans for me. I didn't want to be a burden, so instead I let the call end, and as my phone dropped onto my pillow the silence in my room became deafening.

I curled up on my bed, pulling a blanket over me for warmth my room didn't offer. I had a wardrobe, bedside table and a desk, otherwise the space was bare. Everything was organised. My clothes were put away neatly, the desk top tidy and the floor clear of clutter. It looked staged, no signs of life in sight.

I could faintly hear my parents moving around downstairs, but I knew they wouldn't seek me out for the rest of the day. At dinner mom might come knocking, otherwise I was free to do as I pleased. To an extent.

What did I even do for fun? My skateboard lay waiting for me near the front door, a hobby my parents actively disliked but decided was at least—loosely— some form of exercise so they entertained it.

Maybe going outside would be good.

For now I'd shower again. It still felt like last night's grime clung to my skin. I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I got undressed. I tend to avoid mirrors now, I don't recognise the version of me staring back. My face had changed. Now it's dull and in the harsh lights of the bathroom it looks almost lifeless.

I don't eat much. Knowing that and failing to change it makes things worse. Maybe I haven't changed my eating habits because my parents don't even seem concerned by my weight change or lack of appetite. If I keep on like this maybe some part of them, the maternal element, will care. Maybe they'll help.

That's wishful thinking though. They believe the evil that lives inside of me wouldn't want to stay in an inhabitable host. Consequences of those beliefs—my health—be damned. So my deteriorating appearance probably makes them happy.

I wonder if they'll ever believe I'm cured. I'd told them first out of obligation, then it slowly morphed into hope that it would become true.

Now I've started to almost believe it myself.

Kissing a guy last night still makes me feel sick when I think about it. I'm not sure why; Not sure why I feel like this or why I let him kiss me in the first place. To prove to myself I did like men? To show myself that out there in the world, outside of this small, suffocating town, people didn't bat an eye anymore when two men kissed? To prove it was okay?