Eve

I can't sleep. I can't move. All I can do is write, and hope that somehow I can hold out until the morning. Every morning I awake from a dream with eyes wide open. A morning of popping pills and watching the cars move along. What shall my mask look like today? Will it be that of a man who speaks none, hears none, and does none? Perhaps it will be that of a silly boy high off of life? Either way, you've never seen the real me. You'll never know the side of me that writes every night until my fingers bleed. You'll never hear the screams that pierce the night as I overthink everything and let my body consume itself as I panic. You'll never know the schizoid that won't attend your parties because of the therapy appointments I keep top-secret. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Shall I use the arm of the clock to pierce through my veins? A fantasy related to that of the boy not even the closest of friends will know. Nobody knows Max. Nobody knows why Max is quiet. Nobody knows about his arms and thighs that he covers in jackets and long sweatpants. Did Max eat too much? Has he consumed too little? What's that gagging noise in the bathroom? Why's he chosen Bic shavers over others?
          
          ... Who is Max?

With every word he wrote he wondered if it meant something, or if it could indeed exist to create a subtle, yet superficial definition within a sentence. If he turned the letters backward, what would they mean? If he created a puzzle of words across a dashboard would there be a new story with every string of words he could make? In his room, he awaits an answer as the ideas flood his mind and begs to one-day find release. Then, as his greed settles in, he remembers that the only reason why he cares so much about words is that he wants people to see him as above them for using them in a demeanor only known to him.

"There is more to you than your name," I told him once. There are times when I recount every time I said it and wonder if that's how many times he's listened to me. Anytime when he truly, whole-heartedly listened to my voice as foolish words that only played out correctly in my head spilled out into the open air.