The Things I Wish I Had Told You

Part 12.

(pictured above: Covent Garden, London, at night)

Surrounded by smoke, I stopped dead in my tracks. I peered down at my white sneakers, feeling the damp moss beneath those rubber soles. The wet pine drifted through my nostrils. Where am I? I followed my eyes through the mist, the towering trees and into the forest. I sensed myself shrinking, lost in the echo of the dark, daunting woods around me. I didn't want to move, I didn't know where to go, which direction to move towards. It seemed like there was nothing for miles. My ears twitched as I heard a voice. Again and again, I heard their whisper but couldn't place the voice or echo. What was I doing here? Why am I here? I felt my head spinning as if I had taken a shot of tequila, except instead of tequila, it was panic, frustration and anxiety. Who is she? Why is she calling my name? I couldn't be certain it really was my name, I just sensed it was. Fuelled by worry, I started heading along the gap in the stalks before me. As I drifted through the wood and leaves, it only felt like it was getting further into this tangled town. There was nothing but soaked air drops and eeriness. There was no one apart from myself, and even that I couldn't be sure of. Imagine if this is really it. If I am all that's left, alone forever. There weren't even any animals around me. Every step I took produced an unsettling sound. I wished those footsteps were someone else's, but alas they were too familiar to be a stranger's. Where should I go next? I tried looking up, past the black bushes into the grey clouds. I was searching for meaning in an empty scene. I was grasping at an empty world. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing worth remembering. There was no path I realised. There were only endless trees and moss. I was alone. Not just with my mind for once, but also with the sound of darkness. I felt it digging into my soul, carving out any optimism and hope that might have resided there. Nothing was left behind, there was nothing to hold onto. I want a way out, I want something worth living for, not just a desolate wasteland of fear. Once again, I felt the world turning on the spot, I felt myself become a reduced object just present in the swamp of time. As the world faded to black, I snapped back to consciousness. I reconnected with my emotions and body.

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The next day was one of the hardest of that year by far. I always found academic tests and stresses to be the worst, but the emotional pain I felt was not even comparable to that. My brain was so scrambled, I couldn't focus. I felt like a slut because I realised that a lot more of my friends saw Elliot and I than expected. I shouldn't care what people think, but it was a lingering thought, nevertheless. I hadn't seen him, and I wasn't sure I wanted to either. I only felt entangled by social norms, which resulted in me feeling incredibly alone with my disturbing, distracting thoughts. My one friend just laughed when I saw her; I still detected the dark judgment behind the light-hearted giggle. Another friend, though I'm questioning the use of that term, just suggested that Louise introduce me to some more people she knew, as if insinuating that I might have another go with them. These insults might have meant nothing to them, but in this vulnerable state cut deeper than normal.

As I sat outside my class, waiting for it to start, my heart was still pounding from the trauma I forced onto my body and mind. I began to internally spiralise as I imaged every possible scenario that would unfold in the days to come. Between Elliot and I, and between him and I. The anxious thoughts were overwhelming and suffocating. I had never felt like this and I didn't know how to react. He was breaking me down, decomposing me into fragments, which he may have hoped to piece together according to his desires. But I wasn't prepared to let that happen. In that moment, I would rather have never seen Cameron again than let him claim me as another one of his conquests. But the most infuriating part of all of this was that I couldn't shake the possibility of our exchange being something more, something that was truly meaningful.

I was far from over what happened last night. If the emotional trauma of letting my mouth be violated by Elliot wasn't bad enough, my ambiguously amorous exchange with Cameron still seeped through my veins and hungover mind. The fiery sensation of the tongue tango dance lingered in the back of my throat and the piercing stare he bestowed upon me penetrated my soul. I felt wounded in more ways than one. Confused. Jumbled. Unsure of what my feelings were and where my loyalties lay. I couldn't bear the sight of Cameron or Elliot. I hoped I wouldn't have to see either of them for many days to come. That didn't last long. As I entered my philosophy class, the first person I see is Elliot sitting across the room. Instinctively, I choose to sit at the other end, minimising all social contact with him. I didn't dare let my eyes wonder anywhere near his body on the other side of the classroom. The stakes were too high. I sat idly trying and failing to focus on my class. I listened as Elliot piped up making the perceptive comments I wanted to, but didn't have the mental capacity to instigate. That lasted an hour until I was finally free. I was supposed to go to a hipster café in Shoreditch with Louise, but found myself walking back to my hall instead, daydreaming of my small, unmade bed.