Déjà vu sonder

C-11 Echoes Between Us

Alex sometimes wondered what it was like to be an attention seeker. What did they gain from it? And once they had that attention, what came next? How long before they'd want more, before they'd find themselves stuck in some endless loop, never truly satisfied? It was a question that probably has no real answer—or at least not one I'm going to figure out for them right now. Everyone needs attention at some point, even Alex knew that. But there had to be a limit. At least for Alex, the idea of seeking attention from someone who didn't care—someone who wouldn't even respond—felt pointless.

They had known people like that, though. People who craved constant attention, who fed off it. And honestly, Alex found it more irritating than anything else. Not enough to make them angry, but enough to trigger that familiar cascade of thoughts. How could someone keep going on and on about the same thing? Wouldn't they get tired eventually? Or maybe it's just me wondering about that... Either way, Alex couldn't help but find it tiring.

People would talk about pointless things—like how they used to fight when they were younger, or how they didn't take nonsense from anyone. And Alex? Well, they couldn't understand why anyone would waste their time on things like that. It reminded them of playing a game where someone stole their loot. Option 1: ignore it and move on. Option 2: track them down in the real world and start a fight. Of course, Alex always chose Option 1. I mean, who wouldn't?

Later, when Alex finally got home, they tried to reflect on how they'd felt throughout the day. But honestly, it was hard to figure out. All day, their head had felt heavy and numb, and they hadn't said much. With their headphones on, they'd drifted through the hours in a kind of daze. At least they managed to finish their assignments—even the math, which felt like some kind of small miracle.

Then there was this girl Alex had been talking to. They'd spent a few evenings together. She was nice—really nice—and so positive. But at times, she felt distant, like she belonged to another world. Sometimes, Alex even wondered if she was from another species (and no, I'm not writing some sci-fi twist into this... yet).

That afternoon, Alex had been sitting by the lake, zoned out, trying to work on their laptop, when she approached. Without saying anything, she rested her shoes against theirs and asked if they were okay. Alex had seemed down the day before, and she was checking in.

Alex tried to meet her gaze but kept a bit of distance. It was always hard to respond to things like that. Eventually, they answered honestly. "I don't know how I'm doing," Alex admitted. "It's hard for me to talk about these things."

She listened quietly, and they chatted for a few minutes before she had to leave for class. After she left, Alex sat there by the lake, still trying to piece together their emotions. But their thoughts felt like a puzzle with missing pieces. They could feel the tears threatening to rise, but nothing came. Alex couldn't stop thinking about how sweet she was, how she looked them in the eye when she asked if they were okay.

Later that night, insomnia hit Alex like a truck. They hadn't been able to sleep, thanks to that accidental nap earlier—three hours from five to eight in the afternoon. Of course, now they had to deal with the consequences of it. Their head felt fuzzy, but they knew they had to stay awake all day or risk throwing their sleep schedule into complete chaos. Again.

Sunday came, and with it, the numbness Alex had grown used to. They didn't do anything special—just stayed in their room, playing games and watching videos. Typical, right? At some point, they were snapping the girl they'd been talking to, and she asked how Alex was doing. It wasn't a surprising question, but it still caught Alex off guard.

They hesitated before replying, but eventually, they told her they weren't fine, but they weren't bad either. "I just... exist," they'd said.

To their surprise, she asked for more detail. Alex wasn't sure if they were up for explaining everything, but they decided to try. They told her about the loneliness they felt sometimes, about how they craved human connection more often than they liked to admit. Afterward, Alex tried to distract themselves with War Thunder, but she kept checking in, asking if Alex was okay, and eventually offering to come over.

At first, Alex wasn't sure what to say. I mean, wouldn't you hesitate a little? But eventually, they agreed. When she arrived, Alex immediately felt lighter, like her presence alone had lifted some of the weight from their shoulders. She sat at Alex's setup, playing some games, while Alex talked about everything that had been on their mind. For the first time in a while, they felt like someone really cared—like she genuinely wanted to hear what they had to say.

The hours flew by, and they spent the evening talking and just being together. When it was time for her to leave, they stood together on the balcony, chatting for a little longer. She hinted that she wanted a hug, and though Alex felt a bit awkward, they gave in. The hug was warm—her arms wrapped around them, her hands gently patting Alex's head. It left Alex feeling comforted, like maybe things weren't as heavy as they seemed.

As she left, Alex found themselves thinking about how kind she was. She'd gone out of her way to be there for them, and Alex wasn't used to that. They were trying to enjoy the present moment, but deep down, they couldn't help but wonder how long it would last. When would the light she brought start to fade?

Did they like her? Yeah, they did. But what kind of feelings were these? Was it romantic? Friendly? Alex wasn't sure. Every time they saw her, they couldn't help but smile. And whenever she passed by their classroom, Alex would stop whatever they were doing just to wave.

Later that night, as Alex lay in bed, they wondered what they would dream about. Dreams always fascinated Alex—sometimes, they felt more present in dreams than in real life. But that's a story for another time.