The Space Between Us

Chapter 5

When i was young, whenever someone asked me "what do you want to be when you grow up?" I always replied with "firefighter" or "surgeon"

I wanted anything that would involve saving people.

Little did i know that i would be the one needing to be saved.

From my own goddamn mind.

*************

I wake up the next morning, feeling rested than i had in a while. My headache is gone now.

I sit up in bed and grab my phone. It's 11 in the morning. I've never slept that long.

I close my eyes and lean my head against the headboard. A thought nagging at the back of my mind.

I should start looking for a job.

You see, before my mom got sick, i worked at a publishing house. But when her cancer got really bad, i quit my job to take care of her.

So until right now, i didn't apply for any job. I didn't even think about it. But now i have to start looking for a job.

But i don't want to work as a waiter, or as at a counter in a store.

I want a job that i would be excited for while getting ready in the morning.

And then, sydney's voice rings in my ear. Telling me to do something with my poetry.

Maybe i should write a book.

I mean, why not?

With adrenaline running through me, i get up and open my drawer, searching for a brand new notebook i bought a while ago.

I open the page and begin writing.

I write about everything, i write my thoughts about love, forgiveness, depression. Even about my mother.

I write about my passion for writing.

I write until i'm halfway through the notebook. Each page with a different poem with a different topic.

I pick my phone. It's already 3 pm. I've lost track of time.

I let out a sigh and smile. I know why i love writing. It gives me power.

Yes, power.

The power of words. The power of putting your feelings into paper. The power of writing your thoughts with a pen.

I pick up my phone. I think of texting sydney, but i think i better not.

Maybe she doesn't like hanging out with me.

Or does she?

Maybe she thinks i'm a boring, depressed, sick person.

And i won't blame her.

I am a bored, depressed, sick person.

Who would want to hang out with me?

My friends from college don't even text me anymore.

My friends from high school don't even know i'm still alive.

I have no one. Literally.

My mom used to say "People tend to reject the people who are not like them."

Yes, it's true. I was a quiet boy with a notebook. No one liked the boy who always answered the english teacher questions in literature.

I wasn't exactly a nerd. But i like to read a lot.

Reading leads to writing.

I tried writing novels before, but i don't have the patience.

I debate calling sydney again, but decide not in the end. Maybe she doesn't want to hear from me. And i just saw her the day before.

I crawl in bed with my laptop on my lap, searching for publishing houses to go to publish my book.

Halfway through my search, i have a headache, due to my lack of caffeine.

I close my laptop and decide to take a shower.

After i'm showered, i dress and head to the coffee house.

I order my coffee, then sit by the window and lean my head against it.

My head is spinning again, i haven't eaten anything since this morning. I don't even have an appetite. My stomach is in knots.

I squeeze my eyes shut. We've been over this before. I can't go to the hospital again. They will force my to see a therapist, and even one time they wouldn't release me until i've eaten.

"Hey, are you sleeping?"

I open my eyes and syndey is standing there looking at me with a smile one her face.

I try to smile back but it comes across as a grimace. Her smile fades and her eyes inspect my face.

"You're still sick, aren't you?" She asks ad she pulls a chair and sits down.

"No, i'm better now. Sorry about that by the way."

She looks at me for a moment and narrows her eyes, not believing me completely.

Then my stomach growls. I frown. What a stupid digestive system. I don't want to eat.

Sydney calls the waitress over and orders pancakes and fresh orange juice. Then the waitress scatters away.

I look at her. She looks good as always. With wild curls and beautiful complexion.

I clear my throat. "I've thought about what you said" she looks confused for a moment. So i continue "I've decided to write a book. A poetry book."

Her eyes lit up."yeah, about what?"

I sigh. "Not about one thing in particular. It's about life, survival, love, hate, depression." I take a deep breath "my mom."

She closes her eyes and releases a breath. "I wanna read it"

"Really? You would like that?" I ask.

She simply nods.

The waitress places the food and the drink on the table and walks away.

Sydney doesn't eat, instead, she pushes  the plate and the glass towards me.

"You haven't been eating well, it's not right." She says

"It's none of your business" i snap at her.

She looks taken aback. She glances down at the table and doesn't look at me.

I place my hand on my forehead. I don't know what's gotten into me to snap like that.

"I'm sorry, i didn't meant that. Don't worry about me. I'm eating just fine."

She just nods her head. Then she stands up to leave.

I panic. I don't want her to leave yet, she just got here. I say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"Hey, do you wanna come by sometime and read what i've written?"

She freezes for a moment, her movement stills. She glances up at me slowly. She just looks at me but doesn't respond until a few seconds later.

"Sure, why not?" She says with a clipped smile.

                                ******
You're in the mirror but you're not seeing yourself,
Just seeing all the ways you could be someone else.
-Don't change by why don't we.