Hey. It's been a while.

I’m currently shot-up with nervous energy. You know, my heart not exactly full-on pumping but it’s definitely beating faster than normal so it feels like I get this tingly feeling on my chest that spreads across the width of my torso, and it triggers a shot of pseudo-adrenaline that keeps my eyelids open but my back curves and I curl on myself as if something heavy and permanent rests on my shoulders—you know, that nervous energy.

Remember the pseudo-adrenaline? Yeah, it makes me feel like something’s about to happen, causes the edges of my limbs to tense from time to time just in case, causes my senses to sharpen just in case, causes a voice to nibble at the back of my head, saying over and over again to be ‘ready, have to ready, maybe there’s—hey, hey, be ready, get ready JUST IN CASE’.

My mental state cries. At least I think it is because I can feel telltale signs of me crying.

I don’t know how to make it stop—hell, I don’t even know what ‘it’ refers to. I just want ‘it’ to stop.

I don’t remember when was the last time I was really relaxed actually. When was the last time I wasn’t looking above my shoulder? When was the last time I stopped reminding myself to keep my back plastered to a wall? Just in case. Just to be sure.

Sleep doesn’t relax me anymore, either, unless it was alcohol-induced sleep or sleeping meds-induced sleep. And there’s something sad there, I know, but right now, I could care less.

Well, I don’t think I have the capacity to care about that actually—or about anything really.

I don’t dream. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a pleasant dream that tells of space, mysteries, and wonder.

I do have nightmares, though. A lot of them. The worst thing is that they start as dreams that slowly devolve into nightmares that bring you back to reality with a pounding heart and overflowing dread—so much dread that I was actually grateful to be back to reality.

And yet, that gratefulness doesn’t stay for long. A sense of emptiness starts to crowd me, like ants finally finding food after trekking for long miles, and I get exasperated at the reminder that I’m back to reality. Taking my first breath after waking up is simply that, an exasperated sigh. Sometimes followed by a curse or maybe even some crying. There’s always a haze that settles in my mind, though, so at least that’s one constant.

It’s a haze that takes over that allows me to go through the motions that come after waking up.

Despite having frequent nightmares, a void in my unconscious state is more frequent. So frequent that I forget I have nightmares. So frequent that I forgot what it’s like to be happy for reality.

I want to go back to that void. I want to go back and be physically one with the entity that’s been sitting in my chest for as long as I can remember. It’s almost like spending time with a friend you thought was long lost, but, really, you just didn’t know how to contact them nor that you didn’t know if you were still friends.

I wouldn’t wish this on anyone else, not even to the person I hated the most. Not because I’m better than them or that I have compassion that’s bigger than them—nothing of that sort—but, rather, what’s the point?

I’d be wishing on a reflection.

“Tae? You ready?”

No. “Yup! I’m coming!”

I kill the lights and close the door.

“That’s what she said!” Tiffany snickers with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

I laugh with her, my lips reflexively stretching upwards in a way that makes me want to cry.

“That’s what you said.”

I receive a half-hearted swat to my arm and she gifts me with a pretty blush on her puffed cheeks. I smirk, automatically, and intertwines our hands to tug her to the door.

I can’t stand looking at her any longer. The copper of her irises, warm and welcoming as the earth, burn me like a witch tied to a stake as punishment for the lies they hid—for harboring an identity that was never theirs, that was never me.

We step out into the afternoon sun and I immediately want to combust and be reduced to ashes.

Tiffany breathes in and sighs out, another smile stretching her lips and curving her eyes. I look away again when she starts swaying our hands and instead I stare at a dead rat by the sidewalk a few steps ahead.

“Wow. What a nice day,” she comments as we begin to walk.

“Yeah, what a day.”

Our steps fall in sync so I easily change places with her. Now, I’m by the side that’s nearer by the road and so she doesn’t get to see the death so near to her.

“What do you want to eat?”

A pause.

“Pizza. Lots of pizza.”

“You can have as much as you want,” I whisper.

“Hm? What was that, Tae?”

“I said, I love you.”

Tiffany chuckles and the sound is deep and warm and I think to myself that she’s filled to the brim.

“I love you too.”