Alien, I
Alien, I | chapter something
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I can’t sleep. Not tonight, not while I feel empty inside. Am I empty? I want to cry but I can’t. I never can.
I’m tucked in for bed, in my matching pajama set, my eyes to the ceiling with my back against the mattress of my full size bed.
I don’t know if there’s something here, but I feel like there’s a presence in the room with me… Perhaps my conscious? Is that possible, I wonder?
Think, Vivian, try to make yourself cry, anything to get this empty, persistent feeling to go away.
…No one loves me.
A sigh leaves past my lips. I’ve only ever thought that one a million times.
Think, Vivian, think!!
Please, oh, God, please, anything to let the emotions out, I can’t do this anymore…
Nothing comes rushing to leave the hollows of my eyes, and I’m left here feeling like a stranger even to myself. I can feel the suppression building up inside of me and I hate it with all my being.
Eventually, my eyes start to grow droopy until they finally fall into resting. I don’t know when it happens, but my consciousness eventually fades into darkness, too.
»»»◈«««
I don’t awake to the sound of a blaring alarm demanding me to get up and ready for school. I don’t hear the yelling of my parents demanding the same either. Instead, I wake up to no talking or rushing or clinking of dishes in the kitchen, only the tick, tick, tick, of the grandfather clock in my room.
With a tired sigh and heavy eyes, I push my comforter off of my body as I sit up. My body’s stiff, but I ignore it as I get up and head to my connected bathroom.
It feels very early. Is it even the next day? Did I even sleep throughout the night?
I pause my walk to the bathroom and glance around the room. I can’t see much other than the silhouettes of my stuff. My feet drag me over to my nightstand and I open the top drawer, taking out a small flashlight I keep for God knows what, and shine it towards my grandfather clock.
3:13
Ah, so I didn’t sleep a wink. That explains a lot.
The sound of rolling glass——-like a glass bottle of some sort——-suddenly catches my attention and my whole body freezes. Who could possibly be up at this hour?
None of my family drinks alcohol like that, so it’s odd to be hearing such a thing at this hour.
Carefully, my feet take slow, deliberate steps to my bedroom door. My hand reaches out and twists the knob, the wood door creaking with a low volume——-thankfully.
What if someone broke in? I don’t have any weapons with me… I mean, I can only use this flashlight, but it wouldn’t really do much.
If I die…then, oh well.
I make my way into the living room, the house pitch dark. I feel that presence again, but it’s not coming from a specific direction; it’s more like it’s surrounding me entirely. I don’t know what that means.
I pause in the middle of the living room. I’ve only lived here a year or two, but I know the place better than any intruder.
One second passes by. Then, two. Then a minute. Then, two minutes, and not a single sound.
Do they know I’m in here?
With caution, I continue to walk through the living room. I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to leave the house, so I carefully walk over to it, before unlocking the front door and leave with quick movements.
I turn around, away from the front door, and pause once more. I’m not in my neighborhood… No I am, but it doesn’t look like my neighborhood. Instead of what I’d imagine there to be crickets echoing through the night, the stars up above twinkling, and the moon shining bright over Earth, I’m met with a sort of foggy atmosphere, no moon nor stars in sight, only a black void for a sky, and not a sound coming to my attention.
I don’t feel the presence with me either anymore. Only what is left of me.
Something about this place——-because it definitely isn’t my neighborhood——-feels familiar. Like I’ve been here before.
I begin to walk the streets, my bare feet padding against the rough road ahead.
This place feels like a mix between emptiness and pure helplessness. Perhaps that is why this feels so familiar; because I’ve felt those two things my entire life. I’ve felt those two things more than anything else. Well…those and suicidal thoughts.
As I walk the streets, my gaze landing on every hollow, darkened home that can no longer be called a home, I feel those two emotions coincide within me. Emptiness and helplessness.
All I want to do now is cry. And I do, the tears come to me far easier than they did before I fell asleep——-if I ever even fell asleep in the first place.
My throat constricts and the salty tears pool in my eyes before they finally fall down my cheeks as the worst feelings to ever exist fill me completely.
I realize that I will always stay this way. Whatever this way is… stupid, unworthy, not enough, unloved, a burden, a waste of space…the list goes on.
I can’t help but cry now as I continue to walk down the road, though, my knees grow weak and all I want to do is lie down and never get up again, because not even walking am I worthy of. Walking means trying, and am I even really trying anymore? Walking means life, but am I even really alive?
My whole life I’ve felt out of place. I was the outcast, I was weird. People left me constantly. This…void of people resembles just that. The outcast, the emptiness, the helplessness.
This, right here, is my mind, I finally realize.
No… This is my life. The one I’ve lived in for eighteen years.
Finally, my knees give up and I fall to the ground. The harshness of the rubble bites into my knees through the fabric of my pajama pants, but the pain is welcomed if anything. I fall back onto my heels and just cry, the hot tears streaming down my face like they’ve never had a chance to escape…and for a while, they hadn’t. I’d grown so used to playing like I’m okay that it’s become second nature to suppress every single tear.
Here, there’s no reason to, they just fall out.
”When,” I start, my voice wobbly and broken as I stare at the road below me, bottom lip trembling as snot runs down my nose. “When will I be welcomed as…as me? When——“ my voice cracks, “When will these feelings go away? When will I feel happy and normal? Why did it ever have to be me…?”
I continue to sob, and I fall forward, my forearms bracing themselves on the ground beneath. “I hate this so much… What do I do?” I cry.
And all I do is cry. Cry, cry, cry. It’s all I can do.
Helplessness will never feel delightful. All this has ever felt like was if I was in a tiny box unable to escape, no matter how much I need to breathe in new, pure air instead of my own recycled air.
It’s suffocating with no promise of death.
”I hate this…”