The Edge of Reality

Chapter 18: Isolation

Without Mareo, my life turned into a monotonous shuffle. I got up in the morning, I went to work every day, came home to distract myself with a book or a movie, went to sleep. I did my best to distract myself for longer periods of time on the weekends, but that was more difficult. Sometimes I would spend the day sleeping if I couldn't come up with anything else. Usually, I would line up events or people to hang out with ahead of the time so I wouldn't get caught on my own. My first emotional first choice was always Des, but she was hardly around. She never responded to my texts and even when she was around, she always seemed to be in a hurry. She never spoke a word of anger against me, but also never offered me comfort or support- never even acknowledging the things that had happened. Tahki was starting to act oddly as well. I tried to hang out with her as much as possible now- I didn't have anyone and she didn't seem to like many people, so it worked out pretty well... or so it should have. As the weeks went by, she paid less and less attention to me. I noticed pictures of her and what was remaining of the group on social media, and even in our conversations her experiences with them came up without her intending to mention them. She finally addressed me about the elephant in the room over text one day, after shooting down my idea to go to the movies together.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I've been getting so distant lately, and I just want you to know it's not your fault." her message read.

"What do you mean?" I responded.

"I've been more depressed lately, and I'm so comfortable around you I have trouble not breaking down. You should think of it as a good thing, because I trust you so much. I just need some space from you right now, I'm sorry."

What the hell did that mean? I didn't judge her in my response.

"I'm so sorry you're going through such a rough time. You do what you need to do for yourself, and know that I'm here for you." I replied.

That was the last I heard from her for weeks. I still saw her around town occasionally, but she wouldn't make eye contact with me, so I respected her wishes and would turn the other direction. When she showed no signs of coming back anytime soon, I decided I might as well try to make some new connections. I hated to be alone more than I ever had now, but unfortunately that seemed to be my fate for a while. I did my best to meet new people at the cafe or whenever I was out, but the way I'd awkwardly pushed my feelings down to avoid thinking about them had messed with my personality. I wasn't shy, but it was a lot more difficult for me to talk to people now. In fact, I found myself talking to none other than myself quite often. It came as an instinct, especially on days where I had minimal interaction with others or was feeling more anxious than usual. It weirded me out at first and I thought I might be crazy, but I became comfortable with it after a while. It really did seem insane, but it calmed me to "step out of myself" for a little while to act as a stable force against my shaky emotions. It was almost as though I were coaching myself in third person. Eventually I started to realize I was trying to be there for myself in replacement for the support system I needed. If I didn't keep my chin up, no one else would push it back up for me. As often as this responsible part of me came out, the irresponsible came out just as much if not more. As I shied away from social interactions more, I turned to drugs to keep me company. I never did anything hardcore or addictive, but I was getting high on cannabis on a daily basis and taking xanax almost as often; my dealer (who's number I got from Camm long ago) must have loved me. I knew it wasn't healthy to be altering my mind to deal with my issues, but because I wasn't dealing at all I figured it would be okay to numb my mind. Occasionally, inebriation hit me in a funny way that forced me to think, but I generally went to bed when that happened.

While I did struggle to find people to talk to, I did my best not to cut myself off completely. At work, I frequently chatted with the customers when I was in the mood. Maybe it was just me, but it seemed harder to find friendly customers than before. I must have either been getting used to the world or my bitterness was rubbing off in my work. One of my favorite customers to talk to was a woman around my age named Valtura. She had chocolate skin that blended up into her short, styled hair. Always with a script of some sort, she usually practiced lines for theatrical or movie performances over her meals. Her focus on performance was the conversation starter I used when we first met, and ever since she would always tell me about what she was practicing for or bounce ideas off me about characters. Occasionally when she came in alone, I would spend my break sitting across from her and reading the lines of the opposing part to help her practice. As active as she seemed to be in the theatrical scene, I'd never heard of anything she was in.

"You know, I've never even heard of any of these performances you're in," I told her one day as I sat with her over coffee.

"Most people haven't," she replied, not looking up from her highlighted script. "I started out with a lot of alternative roles- nothing mainstream. Someday I'd like to be in some bigger name productions, but I like supporting smaller things right now."

"That's pretty cool," I said. "You have a lot of talent to offer them."

She laughed. "Thank you! I try. This play I'm working on right now is kind of an awareness campaign- it's awesome getting to boost things that help the community too."

"What do you mean by awareness?" I asked. All I knew right now was that she was playing a teenage boy going on a fantastical sort of journey.

"Well, it's full of singing and adventuring, but it's really about immigration and the struggles that people entering the country face," she replied, looking proud.

"Wow," I looked at her in awe. "That's pretty deep."

"That's why I do it! We're going to be starting performances in a few months, you should totally come."

"I'd love to!" I said enthusiastically. "Maybe we could hang out sometime before then, too."

"That would be fun!" she exclaimed, tearing off a corner of her paper and scribbling a number down on it. "Now get back to work," she winked.

Valtura and I never ended up hanging out, but we did text a lot- almost on a daily basis actually. She was really passionate about a lot of things, and we were able to have a lot of deep discussions. We hadn't known each other beforehand but the connection was strong right off the bat. Despite this, I never felt comfortable telling her much about the struggles in my life beyond generic facts. It wasn't that I didn't think she would listen, it just didn't feel right to throw that kind of weight into our conversations when we usually talked about the world and beyond. Someone I did have a lot of personal talks with, however, was Ashika. She texted me the first time about a week after we met- I'd completely forgotten I gave her my number. I was near giddy when she made the first contact; something about her made my heart flutter and I enjoyed having time with her even if it was only between our phones. We talked for hours the first day, and started talking back and forth throughout the weeks. It was easy to talk to her because she was so open about everything. That first day she had gone as far as to tell me her life story, and listen to mine in return. She had been taken in by a couple, but they were emotionally unstable and the man had tried to kill her multiple times. It wasn't death that bothered her, but the extremes he went through to do so when she had done nothing to deserve it. Drowning, strangling, and general torture were the biggest ones she brought up. The man had finally ended up killing himself before he did her any lasting harm, but the scars of her early years stuck with her and still mentally tormented her. I told her my story too and would sometimes go to her for support when I was down, but I chose to avoid leaning on her too much. She had been through a lot of tough things, and seemed to need me to be there for her as much as I needed her. The times we spent in person were far and few in between, as we always seemed to be busy doing something else.