Maryanland, September 06, 2040 12:40 AM
My legs are rocks. I don't remember the difference between igneous, metamorphic, or sedimentary rocks. It doesn't matter because I am a combination of all three.
My feet take slow steps on the way home because I feel too exhausted to walk using a regular pace. The neighborhood coyote could come at me right now, and I'd let it attack me, putting no effort into fighting it away.
For someone whose job consists of sitting on a chair listening to a licensed therapist talk to their client all day, I sure do get tired in a snap.
On another note, for someone whose doctor advised limiting long walks, I walk a fucking lot. I need a car. I know that will solve one of my many problems. I can use it for transportation to help Lyaly and Sapphire, too. They have their own cars but choose to walk to work with me so I won't feel alone. At least, if I get one, they won't have to walk home after a long day of their exhausting jobs.
I don't know how they have the patience to work in an elementary school. But I understand they chose to do so because they love to help people, children especially. There are no other people more suitable for this job than they are. Kind, helpful, intelligent, and empathetic. I could go on forever, and it still won't be enough to describe those two.
Sapphie wants to teach fifth grade, while Lyly first grade. I applaud them for that; getting a kid to understand division and reading takes the patience of a saint.
Although I can't speak with a client much due to the lack of a therapist license, sitting at the side and listening taught me a lot. In addition, I take notes whenever I hear something my professor told us to focus on, answer questions when asked, and so on.
I thank my lucky stars-
I thank my luck for having my internship under the wing of a sweet doctor. He could teach me all the concepts of psychology, and I would make notes of everything with a smile donning my face. His soft voice, with a slight Egyptian accent, could make anyone feel better when speaking with him.
He isn't like the other assholes who work at the hospital who think they're all that. Grown people spend ample time insulting the interns, and even nurses, as a side job because they're doctors. I've seen it with my own eyes, and it's disgusting. Okay, you diagnosed one person with Depersonalization-Derealization Disorder. Calm down, Einstein. Someone else did the same thing and went along with their day. They didn't work overtime downgrading other people's achievements.
Let me brag about doctor Mohammad for a second. This man has patients recommending him to generations worth of family members. Yet, how does he acknowledge his great work? Simple, he shakes his head while patting himself on the back.
He's the first person in and the last person out of the hospital. He does this to greet everyone on their way in or out. I've told him to stop doing so when some people ignore him, acting like they own the place. His kind heart doesn't let him do that. He brushes away the fact that it disheartens him when people walk past him as if he isn't standing right in front of them.
Believe it or not, psychologists can be insufferable pricks too. All that teaching goes to waste for people as wise as them too. Sad.
I will protect that man with my life. As for everyone else at the hospital? They can do it themselves.
Okay, let's not get too carried away. A few of the nurses aren't that bad. Highlight the word few. I appreciate their kindness towards me, knowing my inexperience.
I also appreciate the patients that allow me to stay there during their sessions. I know that pouring out your feelings in front of one person is exhausting enough, so imagine two.
One lady once requested to hold my hand as she described a traumatic experience. Frozen, not knowing how to act, I looked at doctor Mohammad. With a gentle wave of his calloused hand, I got the okay.
I love my job. It raises my serotonin levels, unlike where I'm heading.
The closer I get home, the higher my urge to sleep over at Sapphire's place increases. I've done that many times already. Their room is almost always empty since their little sister drags them to sleep in her room instead. Her nightmares had never left her ever since their parents passed away. Poor baby can never sleep in her room alone. She always wakes up crying in the middle of the night. I consoled her the first few times it happened before Sapphire took over when they found out.
Four years ago.
I lay sleeping on Sapphire's worn-down couch in the living room. My poor self fell victim to my mother's yelling this morning. Her reason for today is my boisterous morning routine before work. Not wanting to deal with more of her hurtful words, I made my way to my friend's apartment after work. Even if it was cold and I had to walk another 15 minutes despite feeling exhausted, it was worth it. I haven't had rest that was this peaceful in years.
Who knew my friend's place would be this calming at the late hours of the night?
I was in the kitchen having a glass of cold water during said late hours when I heard whimpers.
My eyes widen before I put my cup in the sink. I go to Sapphire's room to check on them. That is when I realized the whimpers were not coming from their room.
They were coming from Ruby's room.
I knock on the door before I walk in. I didn't about asking for permission to enter. Poor girl is crying, for god's sake.
The sight broke my heart.
Ruby, sitting up on her bed, trying to wrap the blanket she has had since she was a baby around her.
I make slow steps to her bed, trying not to scare her or wake up Sapphie. She moves over to give me room to sit on her bed.
"What's wrong, Ruby?" I ask in a gentle tone, wiping away her tears.
The now sobbing 6-year-old jumps into my arms, her face wedged in my neck before she replies.
"I m-miss, miss, mommy, and daddy, Aza," her voice shakes out the words.
"Oh honey, I'm so sorry." I stand up with her in my arms, my hand rubbing her back in circular motions as I sway both of us.
Their parent's fatal accident has brought such a heavy burden on their soft hearts. I hate it.
While she is still crying, I grab her pillow and blanket and sit on her bed, leaning my back against her headboard. I place her pillow at my feet before laying her down on my legs. Both of her legs rest on either side of my middle. Her head lays on the pillow on my feet. I move my legs side-to-side, coaxing her to go back to sleep.
It's a method my parents tried on me, works like a charm.
"Both of you do not deserve to feel this much hurt. Trust me, you have the best sibling ever, and vice versa. No one will help you through this better than them. But give both of yourselves a break, okay?" I fix her bonnet so it won't bother her, which makes her tickle my finger. I pinch her cheek because she's just that adorable before speaking with a large grin.
"There is so much that both of you can handle when you take care of your sibling through this. But I promise you that the person who will devote their life to raising you will do a great job. Sapphire is an amazing person. You will see what I mean as you grow up. Your parents will always watch over both of you. They will be so proud of you guys for fighting through everything. And don't forget me and Lyly are always here for the both of you, okay?" I whisper my words as I rub her aching tummy.
Sapphire told me her tummy aches whenever she cries, so I rub it as per their instructions.
"O-okay, Aza. I love you, Sapphie, and Lyly so much," Ruby says, stretching her small arms as much as she can.
I smile, tickling her. "And Aza, Sapphie, and Lyly love you waaaaaay more," I whisper, extending my arms out, elongating my words to express my love for the sweet trio.
They deserve the world, and I will give it to them.
I know my parents have gone to bed by now. It's not like either one of them stays up to see if their daughter got home safe. Scratch the daughter and make it a money machine.
I wish to sleep as well as they do, knowing someone covers all my finances. It is with sadness that I say that I cannot do that.
My thoughts on marriage are near extinct. I'm 19, for fuck's sake. But I might reconsider if my spouse is rich enough to provide the both of us-
You sound delusional, Azail.
It was funny how my thoughts were about sleeping at Sapphire's place, but my feet were about walking home. Bodies are our traitors.
After what felt like years, I make my way into my room. Alhamdulillah.
The comfort of my room reminds me of the discomfort in my aching shoulders. Knowing the culprit, I make it my first task to place my bag on my bed. The culprit dubbed projector comes into my view.
Pulling it out of my bag, I enter adventurous mode and turn it on. Pointing the camera lens at the wall diagonal to my bed, I press random buttons to see if it'll turn on. After following the directions from a YouTube video on how to connect my phone to this device, my adventurous mode goes up times ten.
All the sleep in my eyes and all the fatigue that pained my back and neck disappeared upon finding tonight's entertainer.
The corners of my mouth go down when I realize that none of the images I try to project on the wall are showing. What?
If the redhead at the shop felt burdened by having this, then I'm heartbroken after buying it.
Still frowning, I continue trying to make something work. Sapphire and Lyaly were so happy about a potential movie night, and this thing chose not to work.
Let's try connecting it to my laptop since my phone might be the problem.
I walk to my desk and sit down on the chair. Mom must have been snooping in here before I got back because she did not turn off my laptop before she left.
My timbers would shiver if I had something to hide, but I don't. Well, except for the map of my future home. I'm not worried because tricking words will deter her suspicions.
The talk I had this morning with my dad returned to my mind.
"You? Leaving us?"
They will be poor.
They will be alone.
They will die with no one around to help them.
They will blame you for everything.
Sighing, I push my head back and look up at the ceiling. What do I do? What can I do anyway?
My parents blaming me is something I am used to seeing. Imagining my friends doing the same scares me more than anything. Shivers course through me when I envision Sapphire and Lyaly glaring at me for whatever reason.
Am I a terrible friend for prioritizing myself? Will they hate me? Are they going to blame me for choosing to break our friendship to help myself?
UGH!
Think about the exciting yet not working projector, Azail. Yeah, do that.
Following the same process as my phone, the frustrating projector finally connected to my laptop.
The frustration and anger I felt from trying to get this thing to work caused me to search for the closest distraction. Looking around my room for something to distract me, my eyes stumble upon a comfortable pair of pajamas sitting atop my dresser. As if they bribed me with tea, I didn't waste a second changing out of my work clothes. I'll take a shower after I figure this thing out. Maybe watch a movie as I eat before I sleep. Sounds like a plan.
I love these pajamas and their silky material. Lyly bought me four colors of them, none of which were black. I know this was her way of adding subtle color to my wardrobe. The colors she chose weren't terrible, and I thanked her for hours for not buying me neon colors. The colors were sage green, navy blue, dusty pink, and what I dubbed biryani seasoning orange.
I gasp when the desktop image on my laptop appears on the wall. What was weird, though, was that none of the apps were showing on the screen. All that I saw was the desktop image that I set.
A red slide at a park near my house captivated my eyes, prompting me to take multiple pictures of it.
In fact, that was all that one could see in the picture. I liked the look of that slide way too much.
I moved my mouse around to find a movie that looked appealing.
Horror? Fuck no, I'm not that brave.
Comedy? Laughing takes energy.
Romance? The description of this says that he's an obsessive mafia guy, no.
The Polar Express? Yes.
The first minute of the movie plays when I realize I'm staring at my laptop instead of the one-dollar burden. Shifting my gaze to the wall, I noticed something that caused goosebumps to rise on my body.
The image of the slide on the wall is still there.
Still looking at the wall, my hand moves the mouse pad on my laptop around to see if it moves.
Nothing happens.
I couldn't stop myself before my foot kicked the projector off of my bed. The dramatic artifact doesn't waste acting potential and takes its sweet time to roll to the other side of my room. As if my shoulders weren't aching enough sitting down, this had to happen.
Clutching my knee as I take my time coming up to a stand, I pick up the projector and place it back in its initial position, facing my wall.
A sharp sting courses through my right foot, making me look down. I look down and notice that I've stepped on a thumbtack. Why is my room out to injure me today?
In my painful clumsiness, I lose balance and fall onto my bed. Impressive instincts save me with outstretched arms, preventing my head from hitting the wall.
That is when my heart jumps down to my legs. A loud gasp escapes me.
My, my fucking arms disappeared.
Panic makes me pull my arms back and look everywhere to check for injury.
Neither of them looks any different.
A stupid thought I wish I held myself back from acting upon crosses my mind. I move forward, putting my hand on the wall to see if it disappears. And it fucking does. My exhaustion is causing hallucinations, I'm sure of it. Well, that's one symptom of schizophrenia.
If the logical side of my brain ruled over, it would have told me three things. Bring my arm back to my body, grab that damn projector, and burn it. But the stupid side of me took over, which is what caused me to continue shoving my arm into the wall.
That is the weirdest sentence that I've ever said. And I've said a lot of weird shit.
I keep going until I fall into a crawling position on my bed into the opening void in front of me.
I expected myself to pass out as I see in movies. I expected myself to end up in some magical land as I read about them in books. I didn't expect to see myself standing at the park in front of the same slide I took multiple pictures of.
My breathing goes erratic as I look around like a madwoman. I know where I am, but where the fuck am I?
Cricket noises course through the place under a blanket of the night sky, okay.
A neighborhood with one-story homes similar to mine is also okay.
Confusion became my best friend.
I keep my steps small to stay near the park.
What if a fire-breathing dragon shows up?
I've read too much fantasy.
I make my way to where I know my home will be. Comfort never comes to mind regarding my parents' glares, but I'd appreciate them more than I do this unsettling feeling eating up my insides.
No logical explanation for this fuckery comes to mind when I observe my surroundings. Dwelling on my heavy breathing will not get me anywhere. I don't know what deserved more attention, my aching chest or shaking legs. So, I do something that will not make me panic harder, making inappropriate jokes.
Everything looks like a carbon copy of Maryanland, a carbon copy of everything on Earth.
What a trendsetter Earth was back in her prime.
The second I enter my neighborhood, my legs run quicker than the fastest animal. I don't know which is the fastest animal, but I'll still beat them in a race with how fast I'm running now. Motivation came to me when my house became visible from a distance.
Trembling hands open the front gate, and my body drops to the ground. My legs felt like jelly while my lungs fought for air. I'm never running again, even if it's towards my dreams.
When I find the energy to move my legs, I clutch onto the green bush for stability.
Wait, green bush? My house doesn't have any greenery in the front yard.
Shit, I'm intruding on someone else's house. Thoughts halt when I don't give them attention and stare at the home in front of me instead.
My dream house.
The exterior design, the color of the walls, the garden full of flowers, the white wooden fence, this is my dream.
What the fuck? That was my second hallucination. I need help.
I look at the houses near, next to, across, heck, above, and below the home in front of me. They all somehow disappeared.
I'm lost. Should I continue feeding my excitement about this house or find my way back home? Like the irresponsible adult I am, I pick the first option.
The door is open, but I couldn't care less about the fact that there might be people here that own this house. Heaven must've heard and accepted my prayers when I see the clear coast.
If this happened when I was in my right mind, I would run upon noticing every item I plan on buying being here. Even more freaky is how each sat at the exact spot the map in my room hoped they would. Everything looked so perfect.
I take the liberty of giving myself a tour of every corner and inch of the place, looking like a child gifted a large bag of candy. I make my way outside, beginning my journey back to the park. Never again will I ever allow the crazy side of me to take over my judgment.
I took about four steps when a deep voice stopped me.
"Hey! You over there! What are you doing alone out here this late? Can I help you?" The voice gets nearer and nearer the more they speak.