Remember Me

5

Dear poor, tragic Henry,

Why are you so fucking sad?

It was the question that wrapped around my brain, hearing the words from everyone around me. My mom, my dad. Gavin, Osiris. Zane. Zane. Zane. Always Zane.

But, the worst of all was when the question came from me.

Because the answer was simple yet immensely complicated. I didn't know.

I looked down at the letter in my hands, the words blurred by the tears I refused to let fall. It was as if seeing my own final goodbye written out gave it a weight it didn't have before. It was no longer just an echo in my mind; it was solid, tangible, inescapable.

It was just one of the many letters that I have written. I could never find the right words.

What words were left for me to say? There were no words that could explain what my brain is telling me. My brain was a master manipulator. It had me so fooled.

Or, did it? Was I fooled, or was I simply in agreement.

I think I knew the reason why I couldn't answer that question.

There should be something. That's what everyone expects. There should be that event, that trauma, that haunting memory. There should be something that made me feel like this.

But, there wasn't.

I didn't have a good excuse to give them. I didn't have a sad story to make them understand.

I couldn't explain why my brain went dark. All I know is that it did. Not all at once, not suddenly. Part by part, cell by cell. Spreading like a wildfire that couldn't be tamed.

I crumpled the paper in my hand and threw it across the room. It landed in a pile of clothes that had long since given up hope of being put away. My room was a reflection of my mind—cluttered, dark, and suffocating.

Seren's words from the night before replayed in my head. "Love is beauty," she had said.

But love felt like a distant memory, a concept that no longer held any meaning for me. I loved my parents, my friends, Zane, but that love was wrapped in a thick fog of pressure.

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. The question of why I was so fucking sad plaguing me like I was desperate for my own answers.

Was it the pressure of expectations? The fear of disappointing everyone around me? The loss of beauty?

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling me out of my thoughts. I picked it up and saw a message from Zane.

"Hey, are you okay? Haven't heard from you all day."

I stared at the message, feeling a pang of guilt. Zane was always trying to reach out, to keep me tethered to reality. But how could I explain to him what I didn't understand myself? I typed a quick reply.

"Yeah, just tired. Talk later?" I hit send and tossed the phone back onto the bed.

Lying. I used to hate lying. I wasn't always a liar like I am now.

The lies never stop, now. The lies are a carousel, the horses are lies. We all have to go through it, we just get to pick which lies we ride.

But the truth is, I was getting tired of this carousel. Tired of picking lies and tired of the constant spinning that never seemed to end.

The weight on my chest was unbearable. My mind was a dangerous sea, and I was desperate to find anything that could calm the waves, even if just for a little while.