Galactic Angel

Singing was always my outlet.

Ever since I was young, singing has been a sacred thing for me. Even if I’m not pursuing it as a career, it’s still very near and dear to my heart. And when I’m sad, it’s especially a powerful form of expression for me.

Tonight was a particularly sad night. Nothing bad had happened. In fact, most of my day had been pretty relaxed. But somehow, my negative thoughts wormed their way into my mind. It was much easier to do so when you didn’t have a lot of friends to hang out with regularly; they say going out with people helps depression, after all. But I don’t really have anyone.

And I suppose that’s what made me sad.

It reminds me, quite terribly, that no matter who I talk to or what I do, I don’t think I’ll ever really have anyone. I could talk to all the people in the world, get close to every single person I sought to befriend, and I’d still feel empty.

I’ve thought on this for a good while. I mean, when you’re alone, you don’t really have much else to do. I’ve thought on it, and I suppose the real root is that my best friend is gone, and probably doesn’t even give me the time of day anymore.

I shouldn’t really care. She moved on, and for good reason. I don’t blame her for not wanting to be friends. I never mistreated her---I don’t think I had the capacity to---but at the time, I wasn’t exactly the most honorable person. Her leaving was justified.

But perhaps it was because for all this time, for years and years, we managed to somehow keep our friendship together. It didn’t matter what happened---we stuck together, we always returned to each other, and we...

We were supposed to be roommates. We had future plans together. I never imagined I’d have to live without her.

And now here I am, living with my dad, perpetually alone.

It’s soul-crushing to see someone you’d grown to care about so much leave you. There wasn’t even a goodbye. She just suddenly stopped talking to me, didn’t even look my way or give me the time of day. And of course, at the same time, I see her having a ball and laughing like she never has with me at someone else’s jokes.

And I realize something must be wrong with me, if she’s never laughed like that for me, and if someone else could bring her joy in ways I had no hope of achieving.

If she could leave me so suddenly and stop caring.

Yeah, that’s why I’m sad tonight.

Absentmindedly, I fiddled with my siren mask. To m y delight, it was decorated in pale blue glittery speckles, mimicking stars. I’m a lover of space, and the manner of decoration is aesthetically pleasing. 

Looking at the closed eyes, and the tear-like decorations, I realized that it looked just as lonely as I felt.

Well.

I suppose my company wouldn’t mind an extra target this month.

With little difficulty, I quickly dressed for the moderate spring weather---it’s never too terribly hot during springtime in Texas, so the clothes I wear when I siren aren’t sweltering nor do they freeze me. Perfect to attract some unsuspecting person.

Idly, I strolled from block to block. 

There were very few people out this late at night, so it was just me, alone.

Like always.

I hadn’t realized that the sadness had intensified until my eyes began to burn. I bit back any potential tears and instead decided to portray my sadness through the best way I know how to.

I sang.

It was a lonely, lovely melody. 

I sing it every time I feel this deep, dark emptiness, as if it could somehow portray the despair I feel. My voice is filled with every negative emotion I felt, every scrap of sadness and loneliness and fear and envy.

But somehow, the song just couldn’t express it. There was too much pain. The tears fell, but sobs never came, because I kept singing and singing and singing. My voice echoed off the buildings, the streets lonely without the stir of life and commerce. 

Before I knew it, I heard another voice behind me, though I don’t know what they said. I turned around, the melodic sounds dying in my throat as I choked.

It was a child.

The only one to be roaming the night was a lost child.

Forcing the words from my mouth, I spoke with a strain, “Ah... what was that? I didn’t hear what you said.”

The kid looked up at me with big, round, innocent eyes. “I said your singing is really pretty. You sound sad, though. Are you okay, miss?”

I watched them for a long moment, unable to muster a response.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I plastered a smile onto my face and wiped away my tears. “Mhm. I’m fine. Just needed to express myself a little.”

The kid looked skeptical, but didn’t push me. Crouching down so as to meet them at eye level, I hummed, “Hey, you want me to sing somethin’ nice for you?”

They seemed to brighten up at the suggestion. “Yes, please! Sing something happen, please!”

I did.

The kid didn’t mind when I slipped my mask on.

I don’t think they noticed too much how weak they were growing.

Weaker.

And weaker.

Tonight is a sad night.

And I’ve finally come to a conclusion.