365 Days || Iwaoi

Day 132

The stars are a mystery. I want nothing more than to take the big dipper and ladle some of the stars from the night sky into Hajime's veins. I want to revive him, to bring him back home.

The truth is, though, that he never felt at home during his time on Earth. Maybe, just maybe, there is an afterlife. Maybe he was born again, amongst the stars.

He always said he felt most at home when we were stargazing, facing opposite directions with our heads next to one another's. It was like a medicine for the both of us; whether it was the night sky or the presence of Hajime that numbed my pain I am unsure, but staring at the stars tonight holds a different kind of weight.

This isn't fair. It's been 132 days since Hajime stole the thing most precious to me.

You're not here to get me through it all, Hajime.

It was like we were ten again, trying to pull the tablecloth from under the dishes, but this time I was the dishes and he sent my life spiraling further and further down until now, when I'm left to stare at the ceiling and decay at an agonizing pace.

It pains me to think of how we could've been different if only neither of us were such cowards, if maybe we actually confessed to one another. Would he still be here, head pressed against the crook of my neck, staring at the stars? Would we be wondering what lies beyond?

Would I still have him?

Would I still have Hajime, or would I still not be enough?

Never being good enough is a theme throughout my life, something I'm used to, not a friend but an annoying disease that refuses to leave no matter the treatment.

I want to stop trying so hard. Kyotani tried telling me that I'm being weak, that I'm letting something that happened months ago plague me when to me, it feels like just yesterday. Getting out of bed, or even getting into bed, is such a fucking laborious task for me these days.

I want to stop trying, I want to give up, I just want Hajime back. I want him to hold me, tell me that things would be okay, that my thoughts don't control me, that I am worth it. He claimed that I deserved the universe, but did I not make it clear enough that he was my universe?

I work so fucking hard but I still fail. I can't even fucking take care of myself, when is the last time I showered? I'm not even sure. I think I ate a few days ago, maybe three or four. Hunger is a feeling I'm not used to anymore.

The things that used to be a part of me, the things that held me together, they're all gone, and I'm left here with nothing. I lost interest in everything that used to bring me joy. I just want to sleep, but I can't even do that. I stay up for hours and hours on end, until I crash for sixteen hours and repeat. All I want to do anymore is sleep.

Sleep is an escape, one that I took for granted for so long. I used to stay up later on purpose, but now, even sleeping pills aren't enough to help.

I'm exhausted. I'm so, so fucking tired.