Multi-verse: hopefully a love story

iv

"Congratulations" I heard my coach said. I smiled at her. Once again, I won but to be happy for another achievement I had was impossible. I forgot how to be happy. All I know now is how to be sad, because that was my normal.

"Where do you want to celebrate, Aela?" she asked me.

I smiled again and sighed. Home.

Yet again, my young crying heart were searching that place I can call home. I'm finding a map towards a place I can call paradise. Some may have found it already; some may be close to it by now but why me? I am searching for it for years yet I still don't have access to a place where I can be happy, truly happy?

"I want to go to the library, Miss" I answered.

"Why?" she chuckled. "The competition is over"

"I want to celebrate"

"At the library?" she asked, confused.

"Yes. I want to celebrate at the library, where all I can hear was white noise, where I can smell old books. It's my therapy."

"Aela?"

"I'm fine, Miss" I answered immediately. I know that part, she'll ask me if I am okay. If I will let her finish her question, I would lie to her and I will have to lie to myself also. I prefer just lying to myself.

"Do you need anything there?"

"I need peace. I will just relax my brain, I'm tired using it during the debate. So, if I may"

"Go on" she said, shocked. "I will just get you there later"

"I walk myself home. Don't bother" I said then walked towards the library.

I won but still feel heavy. It's hard to act like I was okay when in reality I was craving for peace, rest and joy. I wished for joy and life gave me sorrow to endure. I wished for peace and life gave me chaos. I wished for reasons to live and continue but everything just makes me want to stop.

"Silence" a word I see in almost every corner of the library. And that is what I prefer. Silent moments where the moments I can allow my thoughts to drown me. The cacophony of thoughts that always put me beneath confusion and questions. In between distress and despair. In the middle of the abyss where I feel empty.

"Miss Matsuyama" the librarian approached me.

"Miss"

"I was finding a participant for the upcoming essay writing contest. I would like you to try."

Really? When can I rest?

"I'll give you just 15minutes to make a short essay. It can be about anything"

"But Miss---"

"I really like your works inside the books"

"Miss?" So, she saw those? I've been writing on piece of papers and I put it on books I'm done reading. It was just small quotes I thought that minute or aa paragraph about how life was for me so far, or even random things.

I do that because that's when I feel like I could express things. It almost feels like I am talking to someone. And to be honest, I am here to do that again.

Why do we suddenly feel something inside of us crumbling into pieces when all we wanted was for ourselves to be happy? How could I go about living my life if every time I try to conquer my anxieties, insecurities and doubts, life made me demotivated and emotionally drained? Since I can't even think of a reason why I should, how could I possibly hope to survive? Really, none of us can answer that. You will run out of answers to every question, not all are answerable after all.

Every time life makes you happy, it has its own way of turning it into pain. How does life just get darker, messier and just hard to live? That every time I try to make things better, solve a specific issue, bigger ones will arise. Life is no rainbow because there's no black in it. Oh, black isn't even considered a color. It was the absence of light that causes black to exist. I could say I felt it. I feel black as if I was staring at the abyss, purple, my inner child can no longer be felt.

Any reason to continue will one day...disappear. Even if it is something you trusted and know that would stay, make you company and make you feel home. Good for those who have it still and have found it again, but for those who don't, I simply want to emphasize that 'Reality really catches us up,' even if we run away from it, ignore it, lie about it, or even fake it. You had to endure sadness before you could finally start healing. You have to cry before you may kiss that smile once more. You have every right to be depressed; do not listen to anyone who tells you otherwise. No doctor can even touch you when you're in emotional pain, let alone treat your wounds. You're on your own kid.

Is life supposed to be that hard? When I was a child, I wished to be an adult, as I become older, I find myself progressively turning into someone who wishes time would slow down and start reversing.

If our only purpose while we are alive is to live, why is it this hard?