Journey Home

One

That next morning, I nearly convinced myself that it was just a vivid dream. Now, I've reached the point that I'm questioning whether it truly happened or not. So, I pull on my army green jacket and my boots, stomping my way through the cold morning air to the pond. I squat down by the edge of the bank. "Yo, Caspian. You there?"

When I'm followed by silence I nearly laugh at myself. The extreems I go to just to satisfy the little creature in my head that my therapist named Depression. I roll my eyes, chuckling quietly. It was just a vivid fever dream during one of my episodes. I sit down on the bank, putting my head in my hands, feeling the ends of my hair tickle my fingertips. My heart begins to race, and I try and count as I breathe. Breathe in, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6... hold it, 1, 2, 3, 4... breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8... repeat. I sit there like that for awhile, deciding I should go home and do some laundry I've been procrastinating. I stand up, brushing off the butt of my jeans from any dirt.

I look at the pond one last time, hoping that perhaps the little shit would pop his head out of the water, his tongue sticking out as he laughs. I met him once and I've already coined him as a childish goof. Great.

Turning around, I head back home, letting the silence be my music today.

...

After putting my laundry in the washing machine, I turn on my TV. I sit back and relax as Modern Family reels before my eyes. I don't laugh at the funny parts, only roughly breathing out through my nose in a half assed attempt to really laugh. I think I'm hungry. Not enough to get up, no, I'm too comfortable at this point. My butt has created a crevice, I'm here to stay. I'm asleep before I realize it.

...

When my eyes open, the TV is off. I sit up, looking into the kitchen where my housemate, Aster, stands fixing some sort of concoction on the stove top. I enter the kitchen, smelling cheese and hot sauce, strongly. "What in Gods name are you doing?"

"Bold of you to assume I know," he says, then pointing to the cook book beside him. It's some foreign recipe, and I don't even bother with reading it. "Promise me you'll at least try it?"

I sigh, rubbing my eyes, tempted to roll them. "Yeah sure."

"Okay. Thanks," he says softly, going back to his work. I pull out a bottle of soda from the fridge, downing several gulps.

"Make sure you wash those clothes you wore last night. You'll make the floor moldy if you don't at least pick them up," Aster warns me. "Did you fall into a sewer?"

"Yes. I did actually."

We laugh.

"Nah, I fell in the pond," I lie.

"Oof. I'm sorry, dude."

"Yeah, it was disgusting, but I was too tired to take a shower last night. Now that I've reminded myself, I'm going to go and do that right now."

"Good idea," Aster agrees, laughing.

...

I take a cold, brisk shower. It reminds me of the pond water. I can't believe it. I was probably so tired and out of it, when I heard something drop into the water, I looked too close and fell in. I wouldn't be surprised if I was talking both parts of the conversation to myself too. I rub my eyes as the cold water pelts my skin. I'm stiff under the water, but for some reason I'm determined to take a cold shower this morning. Those Instagram self care gurus once said a cold shower was good for you, I think.

After several unbearable minutes of the cold, I decide I can't take it and twist the knob so far to the right it can't move any farther. After a moment, blazing hot water runs down me, and I sigh contently. Fuck that, I want to pretend there's someone holding me so tenderly right now. I want to pretend I'm okay.

After washing my hair and such, I turn off the water and wrap the towel around my shoulders, holding both ends closed in front of me. I stand there for awhile, adjusting to the absence of hot water pouring down on me.

I swipe open the curtain, a small cold wave of air rushing to me, and I shiver lightly. After drying off, I wrapped the towel around my waist, darting to my room to avoid as much cold as I could. I throw on a sweatshirt and some short gym shorts. I remember the laundry I started and toss it into the dryer. I stretch and head to Aster. When I enter the kitchen, he still hasn't finished his meal, instructing me that it's supposed to take awhile and that we'll have an early dinner.

"Alright. Then I'll eat a half assed meal at Chick Fil A," I say, grabbing my car keys from the counter. I head back into my room, switching my gym shorts for a pair of harem pants, and my sweatshirt for a sweater. I've always had a feminine sense of style, but more recently I'm being decently accepted. By that, I mean I'm not completely harassed everytime I go out. I slip on a pair of sandals.

"Did you want anything from Chick Fil A?" I yell out by the door.

"No thanks!"

"Cool, I'll get you a fry!" I yell back, opening and closing the door behind me. I'm met with a slight cold since it's late February, but Spring is coming and the weather is brightening. Which should mean my mood should get a bit better with the warmth pretending to be happiness. Hell, I'll take that cover up happiness any day. I enter my small black car, turning the ignition, and backing out of the driveway. I drive to Chick Fil A, and it only takes eight minutes. I go through the drive throughs, deciding it's too cold to get out of my car.

"Hi, how my I serve you?" the voice asks from the speaker.

"Hey there. Can I get a Chick Fil A sandwich with no pickles, a small fry, and a small chocolate milkshake with no toppings." I pay my due at the next window. I wait a few minutes for my few and such, but it's not as packed as it usually is here, so it takes a lot less time than it usually does. I put the shake in my cup holder, putting the bag of food in the passenger seat, and I take off back to the house.

At home, I give Aster his fries, and he munches on them as he watches TV from the kitchen. The food is simmering, so Aster is only paying enough attention to know if he sets the stove on fire. I sip on my shake as I eat my sandwich, content. As the TV plays, I pull out my phone and check Instagram for any messages of any kind. There's nothing to check, really. Just a few messages of high school friends promising to hang out soon. There wasn't really going to be a soon. I go to my Explore page, trying to find some funny videos. Aster throws away his fry trash, and goes back to cooking. I could never put so much of my day towards cooking.

"Is it seriously taking you this long to cook? Your whole day is wasted."

"Well, I really did fuck it up an hour ago, so I've restarted." We laugh. "I wasn't too far in though. I burnt the meat, though. Like, really bad. I'm surprised the terrible smell didn't wake you up earlier."

I laugh. "I'm not, to be honest. We both know I'm a very heavy sleeper."

"True," he agrees. I go back to my phone, and Aster goes back to his stove. Eventually, I change back into the clothes I was wearing previously. Sweatshirt and booty shorts all the time. Every day, all day. I grab a blanket from my room and do nothing for the rest of the day.