short story: 182.5 days

At first it was the hum of the space heater that kept me going. The outside world has carried on: young women traveling to Europe, getting their nails done, laughing with friends. Young men at the bar drown their youth away, go to Coachella, and eat lobster for dinner. The world outside is moving so quickly.

For those 182.5 days, I have spent my time buried underground, seemingly. I open the window to let the sun in. Now the fan's constant hum keeps me going.

For a few of those days, the outside was home. Couches in the houses of strangers—my home. All the while, a cortisol lump in my throat prevented me from singing as i used to, or whistling a Legend of Zelda song.

In my dreams, I live listening to this ocarina. Somewhere in an “astro-realm” I am going back in time, communicating with the dead, loving the people i used to love, or trapped in some horrifying, psychological thriller sequence. But nothing sticks with me more than the gentle song of the ocarina.

In between those 182.5 days, I have felt higher than i had ever felt before. These moments exist in fragments or pockets of time. Where I truly felt free was away from those who have caused me pain. I couldn’t help but think that I deserved it, that pain, for my mistakes. Maybe it was God, or the Universe throwing karma back at me. Maybe I had never done anything noble or selfless, or maybe I did, and those things didn't matter. Not in this world at least.

The mind I had in those hundreds of days held me back. The outside world was cruel, the people always angry and miserable; a world which, months before, I had seen as the complete opposite. In my naivete, I saw the world through optimism and light. There were bad people here, good people there, and I had to find my place. Some people didn’t fit in any category—but it helped to shuffle them in there anyway.

But now it gets harder to see it. More and more the world grows, doubles, and triples in size. The child that i once was is long gone. And where did all the people go? To work, to school, to somewhere else. I have stayed here and I am so small that I could fit in someone's pocket. In contrast to the loud, big big girl i once was.

21, 22, 23, 24 … there are many years ahead.