anemonita

Under the embrace of nightfall, in your quiet room, a box you'd carefully placed on a shelf deep within your mind tumbles onto the floor. It's contents spill into your psyche, and—like the many times before—you're forced to face the scattered memories. If you're lucky, you'll be able to seal them away and toss the box deeper into your mental labyrinth before it consumes you. It's bound to slip from some hidden shelf again, but you can't muster the strength to face its content in your current state. Unfortunately, luck rarely finds you in these situations.

The soft pillows and fluffy blankets on your bed fail to provide respite, nor does the steady breathing of your boyfriend, Dazai, lull you into a deep slumber. The man clings to you like a sloth, arms wrapped around your torso, face buried in your neck, and legs intertwined with yours. It's endearing, and for a moment you feel compelled to to remain still with him nestled by your side. What if this is the last time he holds you like this? Being the first to break from a hug is supposed to saddle a person with guilt—that's what years of consuming media told you anyway. After all, then it'd be your fault that your last moment together ended.

But Dazai had enough on his plate, to burden him with your own miseries felt selfish. So, you carefully extricate yourself from his grasp. It's awfully difficult: de-tangling your legs was easy enough, but to escape from his grip was another. You're forced to carefully pry his hands apart one finger at a time. How this man had such an inhuman grip strength in his sleep was a mystery to you. On top of that, Dazai is a light sleeper, likely from a past he rarely shares with you.

"Mn-" Dazai whines and shifts closer to your body, chasing your warmth.

You freeze midway though separating his hands from one another. Heart racing, you wait on baited breath to see if Dazai will awaken. One second passes, then another, and Dazai hasn't moved another inch. He's still asleep, for now.

Exhaling shakily, you successfully slip out of his arms. Dazai shudders and rolls onto his stomach, mumbling something unintelligible. So needy. You chuckle and push your side of the blankets towards him, tucking them up to his chin. Hopefully that will compensate for the lack of warmth.

Now it's just you and that itch in your mind, the obligation to fold your hands together and beg to a Father you tremble in fear of. There is no love or desire to prostrate yourself, but rather a deep rooted terror. For pressed against the back of your skull is the cold muzzle of a gun. The concept of free will was the backbone of your theology classes, but was there truly such a thing? To you, there are only two choices: obey God's every word until you break, even if you disagree or fail to understand such orders, or spend an eternity burning. What choice is that? At the mercy of a gun, is there even a choice? Obeying your captor's orders is the only way to potentially survive.

You make the sign of the cross and press your hands together, mind racing with intrusive thoughts far too unclean to convey to God.

Dear God— Am I praying right? Maybe I should be kneeling instead of sitting, no, laying on the stomach is supposed to be the position demonstrating the utmost piety. No, focus.

I am sorry for my sins. I know how awful and sinful I am— Will He even forgive me? Not unless I go to confession. I'm in a state of mortal sin. Pleading with a judge after a guilty verdict has been decreed is a stupid idea. If I go back to confession, I'll spiral again. Sorry, anyway, I hope you know that I am trying and—

You're not begging hard enough. Beg. Beg till the point of tears. Don't you want to get into heaven? Show that you're sorry. You've been avoiding your obligations to Him. You're using scrupulosity as an excuse, aren't you? Is your mind even sick? God, I truly am sorry. Please don't send me to hell. Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry I haven't gone to mass and sinned in other ways. It wasn't right of me.

Try harder. Try harder. You can go to mass and allow God's word to seep into you if you simply try. It's your cross to bear. Others carry their burdens just fine. Jesus stood back up after falling while carrying the cross. Why can't you? He was suffering more than you.

Your eyes well up with tears. Please God.

Don't forget to pray for your deceased relatives and family members too, or else they have no chance to make it to heaven. Uh, Oh my Jesus, forgive us our sins—

Make sure to stay awake until you list off everyone. You wouldn't want your loved ones to be trapped in purgatory or hell forever, right? Your prayer was interrupted. Start over and say all the words right or the prayer might not count. You can't sleep until you finish. Show more devotion.

Oh my Jesus, forgive us our sins and also my friend. I know you send gay people to hell but I don't understand that and I love my friend so much. They don't deserve to go to hell because they loved a woman. Being gay shouldn't even be a sin. Please please don't hurt them. Please, God. I don't want them to get suffer.

Every night, you must pray with a deranged fervor. How else would your loved ones find any solace. Maybe if I pray a little more, my friends will be saved— God, I ask that you spare my loved ones from your wrath.

"Darling? What are you doing?" Dazai's groggy voice interrupts your train of thought.

You gasp, nearly jumping out of your skin. Somewhere along the line, you'd forgotten to breathe. God, I'm so sorry, I will finish my prayer after talking to Dazai. Please forgive me for this interruption.

"Ah, Dazai. I was just lost in thought," You turn around and ruffle his hair, "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

Dazai is silent, eyes narrowing as he scans your face. You avert your eyes and shrink in on yourself.

"You should go back to bed, baby. I'm fine, just happened to wake up," you lie nervously.

Dazai sits up abruptly, grasping your chin and turning your head to face his, "What's wrong? I'm not an idiot darling, I can see you're upset."

"It's nothi—"

"I'm not going to bed until you tell me. In fact," he leans in with unblinking eyes inches from your own, "I won't stop staring at you until you tell me."

You attempt to look away, to hide the fear you're unable to bear, but the intensity in Dazai's gaze is too much. Just how long could he go without blinking?! You sigh, acquiescing to Dazai's request, "I was praying." Truthfully, you didn't expect Dazai to understand. Unlike you, Dazai didn't participate in religion. In fact, you avoided religious discussions with him, mostly for your own sake as the topic dragged you out into a sea of anxiety like a rip-current.

Dazai leans back, a small frown tugging at his lips, "Isn't praying is supposed to be comforting That's what all those religious people say, at least. I never found God to be comforting. Darling, why are you about to cry?"

"I just—" your throat closes up, and you can feel building pressure behind your eyes, "I'm just so scared," you sob, covering your face in shame, "I don't want to go to hell, Dazai."

Dazai's eyes widen and he gently grabs your shoulders, "Whoa, whoa, darling. Who said anything about you going to hell?"

"The Catholic rules! hic I'm in the state of mortal sin right now. If I die, I'll go to hell," you dig your nails into your forehead, attempting to use the stinging sensation to ground yourself, "I have to go to confession, but I can't get myself to do it. If I do, I'll be reminded of it so much more." What a pathetic excuse. What does Dazai even see in me? How could he even love me when I can't get myself to go to confession?!

"God is always watching me, always reading my thoughts. There's nowhere to be free of him! I'll never have a moment of privacy in my mind!" you furiously wipe the tears from your damp cheeks. I probably sound insane to him.

Dazai pulls you into his chest and begins rocking your trembling body back and forth, rubbing your back gently, "Let it out baby. It'll be okay." Liar. Liar liar liar. That's what every nonbeliever says.

"Except I can't," you grasp onto his shirt, holding Dazai like a lifeline and squeezing your eyes shut, "I'm not allowed! I have to follow God no matter what. I don't even love him, but saying that is also a sin. Everything feels like a sin! The fact we're sharing a bed is also a sin. I'm so scared Dazai. I—"

Your voice cracks and your final words trapped in your throat. Admitting to something so blasphemous…. Besides, it'd hurt Dazai too.

Fuck it.

"I wish I never existed," you whisper and allow yourself to go limp in Dazai's arms.

Unlike all else, God's eyes are inescapable. Of all fears, this was one you could never run from. Suicide wasn't an option, though you considered it at times, because that was also a sin. There is no way to take the wheel and choose a route different than the two laid out for you. Unlike fiction, there is no third option. But reality is unable to quell your deep rooted, impossible desire to tear yourself apart. To unravel the verses clinging to you like a curse, the beliefs, and finally, your very existence. If you could stop yourself from ever entering a race you never signed up for—a route which was treacherous with cliffs and crevasses, where few cross the finish line. If you'd simply never been, you'd never have to worry about an eternity of damnation. It's the ultimate form of escapism.

And this desire is also sinful.

"I just want it all to be over. I want to feel safe. But I never will," you sigh in defeat.

Dazai's grip around you tightens as if he fears you'll disappear, "That sounds like an abusive relationship. Have you ever thought about leaving?"

What? This was a mistake. He's trying to turn me against God. What if he's one of the people attempting to pull me off the path of God? I have to think about the afterlife. Life here is so short. I can't get distracted, I can't let go. He doesn't understand. Should I have dated someone religious? I need him to understand. If he doesn't, he will go to hell too. Forcing my views upon him isn't fair. But, if I don't teach him about God, am I also committing a mortal sin? If I teach him more about sin, Dazai's more likely to go to hell. The more he knows, the higher God's expectations are for him. No no no no—

"I can't," you whimper, tugging at his shirt, now damp from your tears, "If I do, I'll be doomed to burn in hell for all eternity."

"You're already in hell. This so called 'relationship' you have with God is torturing you," Dazai carefully brings you away from his chest, holding your exhausted body upright, "Baby, religion shouldn't make you suffer like this. Have you even considered the possibility you'll go to heaven?"

Those words… For a moment, the heavy weight atop your shoulders is lifted. Your mind can breathe and you could nearly weep with relief. Dazai said exactly what you've always wanted to hear. To be able to practice religion without overwhelming fear, to not hold the world on your shoulders like Atlas. Your feelings are valid. You shouldn't be suffering. And yet… that was impossible.

"I can't figure out how to make it all better," you reply dejectedly.

Dazai's soft hands cup your face, holding you like something precious, "I don't know what will happen or why we exist. But we're here." He replies honestly, voice heavy with with an emotion you can't detect. His eyes grow cloudy, wistfully recalling a far away memory, "This world is chaotic and unfair. Bad things happen to good people, and if God exists, we have no idea what he's thinking."

Dazai rests his forehead against yours, "But Darling, whatever happens, no matter where I am, I'll always be with you. Everyone will die one day, no matter how afraid you are, you wont face it alone. Life and death are the two things all humans share."

"That's true…" you sigh, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit you.

Dazai grabs the comforter from your shared bed and wraps it around your shoulders, "You should try to get some rest. I'll call your therapist in the morning to see if you can get an earlier appointment."

Doubt creeps back into your mind and you begin fidgeting with the corner of the blanket, "Did I doom myself by telling you all of this? Maybe I'm dooming you too. I'm sorry."

"I don't think so," Dazai smiles but his eyes are dark with sorrow. When faced with the unknown, he flounders. But he can still do something.

Dazai wraps his arms around you and pulls you down onto the bed, bringing your face into his chest, "Listen to me, love. You're stronger than you think. I know you're scared, but you can overcome this. One day, everything will be alright. I'm proud of you for talking to me."

You close your eyes, melting into the embrace, "You really think so?"