Short Stories

Somebody Else

I lay my head back. My eyes slipping closed as my heart dies. Nothing is right. Nothing is okay. NOTHING IS FINE. EVERYTHING IS FUCKED.

"Where are u???"

"r u ok?"

"What's wrong?"

My phone buzzes, screaming at me to answer. I ignore it. They don't care.

"Babe please, did I do something wrong?"

"istfg BITCH ANSWER...no fr i'm getting worried..."

"hey, I know we haven't talked in a while, and we didn't end on a particularly good note, but I'm sorry, and I want you to know that if I can help in any way, I will...I'm sorry...really I am..."

That one. That one almost gets through. But I won't let any of them in. They'll leave. They always do. I sink into the couch. Staring at my eyelids. Nothing matters. Why should any of it?

"I miss you."

That's it. That's them. The one person who might care. A single tear slips down my cheek. I reply.

"I miss you too"

"Don't be stupid, you miss you, the old you. No-one misses me. Ever."

"Then I guess I'm no-one."

"Well, you can be everyone else's no-one, but you're my everyone."

I smile. Finally. A light. Something good. Then I realise. "...the old you..."

Why?

WHY?

WHY DOES IT ALWAYS HAPPEN?

I scream.

Senseless noise.

The block button hovers in front of me.

I press it. And then press it again. And again. Again. Again. Again. I hesitate. Then again.

I slip away. Darkness swallowing me. Consuming my problems for what seems like nothing to me. What's really a lifetime for others.

*

Searing light awakens me. Memories flood my mind. Tears. Again. I stand and get dressed. I don't eat. I don't brush my teeth. I don't shower. I don't care. I don't fucking care. I get in my car and drive. I buy a new phone. $1200. Refurbished. iPhone 11 Pro. Has to be something nice. Makes me feel better. I walk around a bit. New case. White. Butterflies. New clothes. Whites and browns and greens. Natural colours. Earthy tones. New car. White again. I trade in my old one. New Mercedes. I get in and drive away.

My apartment is sold a week later. I buy a new one. Recreating yourself is expensive. Not that that's a problem. I make new friends. I go to job interviews. I learn the area. I become a new person. I become somebody else. Every couple of months. Everything goes to shit and I leave. I run away and leave it all.

This is the fifth time. First was Nancy in LA, second was Deb in Texas, third was Kate in London, the last one was Maddy in Brisbane. Now I'm Lucy, Sydney this time. Maybe this time I'll stay. I hope I can.