i am crying as you punch the wall. repeatedly. you ask me not to stop you, and i try my very best. i once told someone i knew you were messed up the moment i saw you, and of course i was right. i once told you i’m a magnet for fucked up people, and of course i was right about that, too.
we are on a bed that doesn’t have a frame, just sits on the floor in a room that has no lights. i am lying on my back, and you are on your side, and your fist connects with the wall again and again and again, and my eyes are closed so tight i thought they would never open again if i tried.
your anxiety attacks are the worst i’ve seen. i have saved people time and again from killing themselves, and i ruin myself a little each time that happens, but i would rather that than see you try to control your anxiety again, your chest rising and falling erratically, your face red. than hear the wall groan beneath your angry hands. than look you in the eyes and hear you say “just leave.”
when it subsides, the wall is left to rest, and you touch me tentatively on the arm and say “i’m sorry.” i am crying still. i never cry, but i am crying still. you beg me to talk.
“anything, nica. please just say anything.”
you apologize over and over even as i put your arm around me and rest my head on your chest. listen to your heart beat and quietly ask it to keep steady forever. a sad and futile attempt.
“i don’t deserve you,” you say to me. “you’re so stable.”
i hiss a laugh through my tears. you ask me why and i finally talk. “you don’t need to hear this.”
“no,” you say. “tell me.”
there is a song that goes “braced myself for the goodbye” and it is exactly what i do. i know you; you are exhausted emotionally. there is nothing left in you to deal with this. but you keep asking me, and i figure if this is going to end, it needs to end tonight, and so, fine, fine, i whisper,
“i want to die, jeuel.” i feel you stop breathing. “i always want to die.”
“nothing makes sense anymore - the world is never getting any better, and there is nothing we can do about it,” i explain.
“it’s logical to just die, because feel even more hopeless each day, and soon we will have nothing left to keep us going.”
i’ve explained this before, but not in those terms. i had only said that i have been struggling with motivation for almost a year now. i had only said that i haven’t had any dreams for myself for so long.
it is quiet in the room. i am still crying. neither of us speaks.
and so this is how it ends, i think, our 26-day love affair.
except your arms tighten around me, and you whisper, “don’t.”
“it’s okay,” i tell you. “you don’t have to do this. i know you’re tired.”
i feel you shake your head. “shhh. shhh. i’ve already made an exception for you.”
i start sobbing to your chest. this is more than i deserve, i know.
“don’t do that. please don’t do that.”
you kiss me on my forehead. i keep crying. this is the worst breakdown i’ve had in a year.
“we’ll be here for each other, nica,” you say. “you’re so strong.”
“yes. but i can be strong for you, too.”
in the dark, it is easier to focus on just breathing and on the feeling of being held close. you kiss me on the forehead and on the cheek and each one slowly brings me back to sanity.
soon, i can speak again. my voice breaks as i thank you.
when i wake up, the sun has lit the room yellow, and you are the first thing i see. i memorize the moment. it will be a while before i see you again, and i need to be able to come back to this room, on this bed, in your arms.
just in case it gets bad again.
a friend bursts into the room to say breakfast is ready. i groan and put my arm lazily on top of you. i don’t want this to end. “i’m going to miss you, you know.”
christmas break begins today, and you are going back to cavite, and i am going home to fairview, and we will be 60 kilometers apart again.
we laugh about how i am going to be stuck home for the rest of the year. my parents and their power play, i explain.
“they won’t let you leave?” you mumble to my neck. my hands are in your hair.
“no. really, i just want to make enough money to run away from home and try to be happy,” i think out loud. “i’ll figure out how to do the world-saving after that.”
you stop kissing me and look me in the eyes, in that intent way you do whenever you are about to say something stupid like “you’re beautiful” and “i like you.”
“what?” i ask, ready to roll my eyes.
“nothing. it’s just…” you nod im encouragement as you say,
“you should start dreaming again.”
my hands fall to my side and i stare up at the ceiling. i feel you watch me as i revel in the thought. i realize that it is the first time i’ve said anything about the far future. even if it is a superficial thought, almost empty, devoid of any real weight.
i train my eyes back to yours. “how?” i whisper.
you reach out to push my hair from my face. “well… we can always start with breakfast.”
and then i kiss you. and then i am sitting up and pulling you with me.
“yeah, okay,” i say. “let’s go.”
