Numb Days

Part 1

 "Apparently, challenging the ideas of life and death in trigonometry isn't getting me a passing grade."
 

It looked like Dan was right, because I wasn't getting the best of grades either. Class was beginning to be dismissed and I shoved the useless paper into my bag.
 

"Well, I'll see you in class for retakes if Mr. Thompson has a change of heart."

 
I say with a wave, stuffing the useless paper into my bag. Plodding out of the classroom, I start my spiral of insanity once again. I can feel the coldness seeping back into my soul, the numb spreading throughout my mind. Smile through the pain, laugh to hide the sobs, and keep on surviving one day at a time. My mantra repeats in effort to force the smile onto my face, but my awareness drifts to a faraway place I cannot reach. 


"Hey Josie, wanna grab a sandwich from Subway?"


Dan calls from behind me and I turn around to see his crooked smile. In a split second, my mask comes up to conceal the blankness I wear on the inside.

"You're only saying that because you want to see Anne"
I smirk, knowing this is true.

 
"Hey, don't pretend you don't want to see her either." 


Anne was the most extroverted a person could be, energetic and positive. Normally my answer would be an automatic yes; but at the moment, simply not existing would be amazing. Of course, Dan can't know this


 "Okay, okay" 


I say holding my hands up in mock surrender.

"Subway it is"

After the drive to Subway, we order our food and Anne takes her lunch break with us. The speakers play a song I haven't heard in a long time. The fierce lyrics strengthen me one beat at a time. 


"Ah, I know this song, but what's the name?"


I ask Anne, the encyclopedia of every band lyric or reference ever made. 


"The Phoenix by Fall Out Boy" 


She says without hesitating in the slightest. 


"Didn't you go to their concert a while back?"


"Oh yeah, it was amazing! There was a ton of pyrotechnics too." 


Memories flood my mind, but they're robbed of the warmth they once had. What's wrong with me? Normally I can latch onto a memory to reinforce my mask, but today it's as if they've lost a dimension. My good memories have become silver clouds with grey linings. I'll just power through today and grab a book to chase away the numb on my way home. 


"Hey Dan, I have a philosophy question for you."

 
"I'm ready!" 


He puts down his drink and listens intently. 


"How would you know if you were missing a dimension or sense?"


The idea is so intangible, like describing color to a blind man; so he goes into deep thought mode. 


"Well, for starters, I don't think we would know if we were missing it, but maybe this other sense is something futuristic like scanning--"


Dan's cut off with the splash of his drink falling to the floor, knocked off by his excessive hand motions.

"Hey, can someone mop this up, I'm off duty." 


Anne calls over another employee to help clean up the soda. 


"Well, at least it was half empty." 


Dan's one of those optimistic pessimists, the one who sees the cup as half empty, but calls knocking it over at half empty lucky. I've never really had the time to figure out why... After the mess is cleaned up, I take that as my cue to leave.


"Oh, I forgot I have a report for psychology due later tonight, I better get going."

 
I ended the sentence with my voice cracking as well as my mask. What's wrong with me today? My depression doesn't normally affect my mask. What if my mask falls altogether? I can't survive without my mask, it's my addiction. Some people's addictions are destructive and dangerous, but mine is my painstakingly detailed smile that occupies my face more often than anything else. If it falls, I lose myself drowning in this wave of dread. 
 As I'm driving home, I grab a book to distract me from my fracturing reality, and try over and over to repair my mask. I'm terrified of what will happen if I don't fix it in time. At this point, I think I may need to accept some medical help if I can't even pretend to be happy anymore. When I enter the dorm, apparently my façade has fallen because my roommate Lena greets me with a look of concern.

 
"What's wrong?"


"Nothing, I'm okay."


I'd love to live life free of lies, but sometimes I'm okay is the biggest lie you can tell.