campbell's guide to the universe

viii. at the pool

trigger warning // dysphoria, mentions of intrusive thoughts

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each day bleeds warily into the next, leaving nothing behind for me to remember whilst also feeling horribly long and hopelessly boring.

it's summer break. summer always brings about odd feelings for me. nostalgia, heavy and warm and sickly sweet, mixed with this urge to break down and cry every other second.

we're approximately three days in and i'm tugging on a bathing suit, hating who i see before me in the mirror.

clara follows me around everywhere— the body, the long hair, the voice— and restricts me.

anxiety is blooming in my soul like some dark flower, tangling knots in my lungs so it gets hard for me to breathe.

i sometimes think about being free, leaving everything behind. what if i could just be a bird, wind on my wings as i soar away? would anybody miss me?

"ready for the pool?" mom asks, pulling me back down to the ground and clipping my wings.

and i have no choice but to comply; to say yes.

➸

you're there, at the pool.

you're like the bright spot amongst the darkness that is slowly overtaking my brain.

i tell mom i know you from school when she catches you staring, or rather me staring at you.

i can't help but smile at the lopsided grin on your face when you meet my eyes, waving your hands giddily.

"well, go on. go over there and talk to him. he looks like he'll have a heart attack if you're not in his proximity this minute." mom says, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. i hate it.

after fighting the urge to throw her an angry glare, i stomp over to you. my anger vanishes in a second.

"hi atticus!" i say cheerfully; i'm not actually cheerful at all.

but i would be cheerful for you any day.

"how's your summer so far?" your blue eyes seem to nearly match the shade of pool, rippling in the sunlight.

"alright, i suppose." i thought you would catch on to how uncertain i was, how much i was lying. but you didn't. or maybe you did, and we both decided not to say anything else. "yours?"

i want to say so many other things. want to tell you the truth. mom and dad are fighting a lot these days. more often than they used to. fighting over the smallest, most insignificant things; chipped cups, half empty bottles of laundry detergent, minutes ticking away. most days i don't feel comfortable in my own house. i don't say any of that.

"it's good! my cousins are coming to visit next week."

you smile, i smile too. however, you don't notice that it doesn't quite reach my eyes. it's better that way; better with you not knowing.

"that'll be fun."

"yeah."

we pass an hour or two like that, talking about this and that and everything in between.

we never actually get in the pool; i don't have to get in the pool. i've never had the chance to thank you for that. i don't have to take the t-shirt off, don't have to expose my bathing suit, don't have to expose myself. if i had thanked you, i don't think it would have made much sense to you. but it makes sense to me. so thank you.

after a while, your mom comes to pick you up. that's when my mom decides we should go home too. goodbyes are exchanged, my voice shaking, and just like that it's all over.

i glance back over my shoulder at you as you are walking away.

i don't want to go back to my house, back to my parents fighting and noise noise noise; my eyes plead with you.

but you don't turn back around to look at me. i would never tell you, but that made my heart ache in this mysterious way. i would never tell anyone about that though, not even you.