Adoranthus

The Price of Longing

When I close my eyes and dream I always see the same thing.

I'm sitting on the floor of a white room. A masked figure sits across from me with their hands folded in their lap. They smile warmly at me, but the longer we sit there, the faster the mask crumbles until they're a looming form made only of my most corrupted thoughts and insecurities. They hover towards me and lean in just enough for me to catch the unmistakable scent of decay on them. A muddled voice that sounds farther than it actually is fills my head with distorted whispers.

"You've been here too long," it would say.

"It's time for you to wake up..." Their fingers dig into my shoulders and I cringe when I catch sight of the dirt under their nails.

"...before you forget how."

I gasp for air as the world around me starts to peel away from my consciousness, collapsing like a shattered mirror and cascading beneath the rising water that slowly fills my lungs. Every shard reflects my ghastly face as I flail desperately. Then, the vision fades. Like froth on the ocean, it all disappears and the morning sun is there to greet me.

When I'm awake I pretend that I'm not tormented by this persisting nightmare. I laugh and smile and act like everything's okay, but the dream gnaws at my mind all day. Because I know that when it's time to sleep again they'll return. So before they do, I make sure to distract myself.

The only time I wasn't held captive by the nagging thralls of my nightmares was when I was with HER. My best friend, my other half, the platonic love of my life, whatever you want to call it. A friendship that knows neither time nor distance, the only thing that I thought was keeping me sane. Monique wasn't perfect either but we clicked in a way we never had with anyone else and before we knew it, we had become dependent on one another.

Nobody understands me like Monique.

Nobody cares about me like Monique.

I'll never have what I have with Monique with someone else.

It was us against the world.

That was what I believed with my whole being and yet, I never told her about the nightmares. I kept brushing it aside, thinking it was just a passing annoyance. Soon, days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Before I knew it, nearly an entire year had gone by and things only got worse. Cracks began to form in my perfect friendship. Her compliments began to feel forced and normal conversations became filled with passive-aggressive comments subtle enough for me to question if I was hearing right. Worse still, the nightmares I longed to be rid of were now so unbearable that I could no longer ignore them during the day.

Each night the masked figure would find some way to drag horrific visions of Monique into the nightmares. I'd lay awake, well into the morning, dreading what I'd be subjected to once I closed my eyes.

On one such morning, I felt exhaustion begin to weigh on me. My hands fumbled on my bedside table in search of my glasses, knocking over a picture in the process. Abandoning the search for my glasses, I picked it up and threw my head back onto my pillow. It was one of the many pictures I had in my room of Monique. As if the mere thought of her could summon her, my phone went off, the ringtone I had set for her blaring in my ears. She was most likely asking for advice that she'd end up ignoring yet again.

Not that I minded consoling her. When she asked for advice I gave it to her earnestly, but it was not always what she wanted to hear and I worried at times that she would resent me for it. For all my worrying, we always had each other's backs. We were just...different. She was so pretty and sociable in my eyes. It was funny to me that two people could have so much in common and still manage to be polar opposites. I used to think that it was just one of the charms of our relationship, but for whatever reason, it began to feel more draining than anything else.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Three more weeks went by and suddenly my nightmares were that of me desperately chasing after Monique through a darkened hallway that never ended. The darkness would always tangle itself in my limbs and pull me down into it's depths. I'd always wake up half wondering if I had finally died.

Maybe I had reached my limit, or maybe she too began to feel the foundations of our relationship begin to crumble. Perhaps it was simply just a case of an outgrown friendship, but the tension we always ignored became more noticeable and the words left unsaid in comments veiled as harmless jokes rung loudly in my head. It was numbing. I enjoyed nothing anymore and the one person that kept the chaos away only made me anxious now.

I could no longer tell what she was thinking. It was as if this woman who I adored with all my being had became a stranger. Promises of forever were now clouded over by the poisonous atmosphere between us. Some corner of my heart cried in agony but the masked figure that was always at the back of my mind was there to snuff it out. It hardened my heart so that when night fell and it was time to face it again, I was no longer scared.

When I dreamt again I saw Monique with her back towards me, running just like she had been in my dreams before. This time though, I didn't chase her. I watched her disappear into the darkness of the hallway, before the darkness finally claimed me too and for the first time in months, I was able to rest.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

When the sun rose, I knew it was time to do something. So I did. I could see the panic in her eyes when I told her I was leaving. Judging by her reaction, it seemed like I was the only one who had noticed the growing distance between us. The part of me that felt bad for her resurfaced ever so slightly but the masked stranger was there yet again to remind me of the festering frustration I felt and how it far outweighed my love for her. I rambled on in an attempt to suffocate the rising feeling of pity inside me.

"I need to start distancing myself."

"I depend on you too much."

"I want to move on."

Perhaps all of that was just another way to say "I don't need you anymore." Maybe I just wanted to prove it to myself, or maybe I really did start to hate her in the end. Either way, it was always going to come to this. At least that's what the masked figure says to me as I start to walk away.

Monique reaches out but her hand falls limp at her side when I'm no longer within reach. I can hear her trying to stop me but it's too late. Anything she says falls on deaf ears. By the time I've left, I start to wonder what she'll do now but in the end, none of that matters.

She's probably cursing me right about now.

She's probably promising herself that she won't take me back if I regret my decision.

She might even be wishing that I do.

Whether she hates me or thinks I hate her, I don't care anymore.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

As if a spell had been broken, my nightmares disappeared and with it, the masked figure. They took with them all my doubts and fears. Even now, I can't tell if they were good or bad. All I know is that the price to pay for my peace was the sacrifice of the one person I cared for the most. What I was rewarded with for all of my torment was a solitude I didn't realize I was craving. In a strange way, instead of guilt, I'm filled with an intoxicating relief.

I don't need her like I thought. It doesn't have to be "us" against the world. All I need is me.

If that makes me the bad guy in her eyes then so be it.

****Author's Note****

This is also from about a year or two ago. It was for my entry to the Fall to Darkness contest on Penana. This one was actually written before "The Woman in the Bottle."

What is a person to do when they cut ties with the platonic love of their life? Write angsty shit about it.