Always Atlas

23 ➵ I'm Here

"I hate being alone in my own body." are the first words he says.

His voice startles me it sounds so sad and drained of life, it upset me to hear him not like his normal self. "What do you mean?"

Atlas shrugs, crossing and folding his arms behind his head. "I mean," He pauses. "I hate being alone in this fucked up, piece of a shit body. I hate that I—a singular person—have to deal with all this pain. The amount of pain in endure is enough for at least a hundred people."

I couldn't have agreed more with what he had said. 

I can't hold my body, touch it, stare at it. Oh, I will never understand how everyone else doesn't just want to punch their reflection, shatter that rectangular distorter into a million pieces. Give me all of the bad luck, I mean, I don't think the next seven years can get any worse really.

This body has done nothing wrong and yet I punish it, send it to bed without dinner, run it till my legs feel like jelly and till the point, it feels like it's going to shut down from how far I've pushed it, make it sit in isolation, critique every lump and bump and crevice.

I do not think there is a single part of my body I can say I love; I cannot even use the word like.

I sigh, chipping away nervously at the black nail polish on my fingers. "I'm not really in the position to hold any more pain, but I'd take some of yours if I could, Atlas."

If I, could I would take his pain in a heartbeat, it was hurting me to hear that he was in pain but God I'm in so much pain myself that I believe if I took his I would just explode and die from all the pressure and hurt.

"Are you in pain?" He whispers.

Mentally or physically? 

Mentally I'm in a million tiny pieces. Ones that are so sharp and damaging. They like to hurt me at night time when I'm alone and venerable, sometimes they talk to me other times they cut me in the darkness making me feel depressed and ashamed for no reason, leaving me to figure out the reason.

Physically I'm fucking dying. My body is starting to give up on me, it hates me for not giving it food each day and for excising it way too much. My hair is slowly starting to fall out... again and it's not from putting damaging chemicals onto it.

"Why is it I have such a difficult time lying to you?" I ask because I was going to lie to him, I was pretty good at lying but God when I looked into his eyes, I just wanted to tell him the truth it's like his eyes were hypnotizing me and forcing the truth out of me. "Of all people, it's you. When we talked last night, I unloaded more than I ever have with anyone. And I don't regret it. You just listened. . .I didn't know how long I had been ceased to silence until I used my voice, Atlas." I sit up, my voice is fragile and delicate like a small snowflake. "So, why is it? Why you and me?"

It's comforting telling him this type of stuff, stuff that is both personal and not majorly personal either. I guess I trust him so much because I don't think he will tell anyone. I think he's very different from when he was in high school, I think he's a lot more private and doesn't hang around his friends as much as I haven't seen him when they have been at the dinner. 

"I don't know. . ." He says after a long silence, his forehead creased as he thinks of what he's going to say next. "I helped you find your voice. Now you want to use your voice to help find mine too."

Faintly, I smile just as a loud crack of thunder booms outside causing me to jolt in surprise. Shortly after, the rain begins to splatter against his floor-length windows, drowning out the soft music in the background. 

I turn to look behind me as I wanted to look out at the rain over the city through his windows but instead, I gasp. "Oh, my fucking God. You have those windows." I say way too excitedly, standing up as I couldn't help but admire the long wall, which ironically, doesn't consist of a wall at all, only glass.