The Only

A Darkened Plume

December 19, 2013

It's been a while since I've written here, and part of me feels silly needing this thing anymore. When I read my old entries, I sorta cringe. I used to draw doodles everywhere, and it all seems so childlike now for some reason. I feel like a completely different person from the day I was accepted into Blackwell until now. I probably won't write every day, but after the last couple of months, I'm hoping this will help clear my mind a bit. Plus, I heard Chloe laugh this morning for the first time in what seems like forever. I literally teared-up hearing the old Chloe still in there.

Losing Rachel was hard on her. Losing Rachel a second time broke her. When we left Arcadia Bay, we had a long conversation. Well, I did all the talking while Chloe drove us to Seattle. Occasionally, she would nod and mumble. "Yeah, ok, Max," she'd say, while blankly staring at the road. I'd catch her looking over at me from time to time, but not much more.

I explained how Rachel was a hero by saving not only our lives, but the lives of countless others. The cycle demanded a life and she sacrificed herself making damn sure it wouldn't be either of us. In choosing to save us, she tricked the cycle, which accepted her life, rather than our lives, apparently resetting the timeline to the original storm day. I'm not 100% how any of it works, though.

I also explained what I learned about our deep connection, The Watcher, the atomic level, and the yin and the yang stuff - how she could fast forward while I could rewind, but she only nodded. I think she has accepted everything, but I really don't know. It breaks my heart seeing my beautiful blue-haired punk with tats and 'tude so... lifeless.

She did open up a little yesterday. She briefly expressed regret in not calling Joyce during the week that never happened. At the time, we didn't understand we only had one week before we would return to the day of the storm. How could we have known? I deeply regret not reaching out to Kate or Warren too. Part of me is still hopeful Kate somehow survived in the hospital. I've tried her phone several times, but it seems to have been disconnected.

David stuck around town helping pull bodies from the rubble. From my understanding, he worked as a point person on the rescue team. He and Victoria were among the only survivors by being down in the fucking darkroom during the storm. As soon as we left, he called Chloe and they had a similar conversation to the first one - it was kinda eerie. After that, she was mostly silent despite my pleas to not keep things bottled up inside. She did hold my hand tightly most of the trip – that was really nice. There's probably a textbook somewhere with a definition for how she feels. How would science even begin to explain what we went through during those weeks? Aside from the laughter this morning, she seems to have two settings:

1) Hollow/Empty

2) Overly protective of me

She snapped at the gas station attendant last weekend for disrespecting me. He didn't even really do anything wrong. I questioned the change he handed back and he corrected me. Then she jumped down his throat and caused a huge scene. I had to drag her away. She doesn't want me to ever be out of her sight for longer than a minute or so, which includes bathroom time. In the shower, I can hear the door crack. She briefly sticks her head in and listens, just to make sure I'm okay.

We hug all the time, but it feels more like she's just holding on to me rather than any show of affection. I feel a little guilty because all I want to do is be around her, so I can't say I mind her protectiveness. She also kisses me on the lips sometimes, but it feels very mechanical and never more than for a second or two. We've not had any more shower-like experiences together, which I really want to get back to at some point. I have zero doubt she is still in love with me, I just miss the goopy stuff. Those were my favorites. Like everything else, we need time. I just miss... us.