I drag out every step toward my car like I’m shuffling through a thousand feet of sand.

More like drowning in 10 thousand fathoms of sharp suffocation.

If I’m not careful, I’ll become buried treasure, for someone to dig up…ages from now.

I climb into the front seat and kick my high heels off. Just rest my hands on the steering wheel and my face on the back of my hands that feel like they were chiseled from ice.

I can’t even process the day I’ve just had. 

I’m just…

Existing.

Barely. 

My skin hurts from these chills and goosebumps, and I just want to wash today out of my body - out of my memory.

I’m trying to cry, but it’s not working. I can’t even get this feeling out of my chest - just trapped in the middle of a big system error that seems to have shut me down completely.

A crash.

I’m…not ready to drive yet. Get from point A to point B and still keep everybody alive, yet.

I don’t even want to try to move. And I’m not going to.

I think I’ve hit my limit for today. 

I got through nearly 10 hours of people…and Mrs. Howard…so even if I shattered in the middle-

Someone, please tell me that’s good enough. I did well.

I can’t do more.

I accidentally drive to Kattar’s house instead of mine. Accidentally forget that I was so sure I couldn’t face him with all these thoughts and questions. I’m not even exactly sure how or why.

I don’t know if I want to talk to him, but I have to…want…

I’m drawn to the loadstone rock.

Where did I read that?

I’m too confused by everything, and today has been so much of a trainwreck that facing him and all the chaos in my head that I’m feeling about ‘us’ is infinitely less scary than going home to think about this, alone in the silence.

Why do we crave the presence of the people who anger us the most?

This ire and frustration that isn’t fading, just burning away all the air in my lungs - this exhaustion- tastes like rapidly fraying wedding clothes and sheets.

Maybe it’s because. I wouldn’t be this angry if I didn’t love him ten thousand percent more than I hate all these lies. Or maybe it’s why I hate these lies and this quiet. Disquiet. Despair and dissonance. Distance.

It would be easier to say I love you if you hadn’t sworn me to silence. Easier to show it if my hands weren’t tied, but still.

I love you more than I have any right to. And I’m not about to stop, so sue me.

I don’t even remember to text Kattar before I enter the apartment building, just wait on the elevator, too tired to take the stairs, and walk the short distance to apartment B5 in a temperamental slurry of hesitation and frustration and desperation and misery. Knock on the door. I hear his voice say “Come in,” but it sounds more like a question than anything else, and as I open the door slowly the look on his face isn’t as happy- 

Happy to see me standing awkwardly on the threshold…

Does he have any reason to be?

As a girl…a girlfriend…any friend could wish. Honestly.

Is this why he hasn’t texted me since…?

But I have to cut that thought short because I haven’t texted him either.

I guess fair is fair.

He could have a thousand reasons. And I’m bad at reading into things or too good at it. At least usually.

Today’s feelings seem painfully clear as he glares at me with a mixture of irritation and confusion that borders on fury.

I couldn’t have done anything I don’t remember, right?

“Either come in or go out, but close the door,” he says shortly, fidgeting repetitively with a thick rubber band stretched out over the fingers of his left hand he’s opening and closing slowly. “Why are you here?”

“Because I wanted to see my boyfriend and ask him if he wanted to go get dinner?” I laugh fretfully, kind of lying, kind of telling the truth, though I hadn’t thought of going out for dinner until just now.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” he frowns deeper, and his expression darkens if that’s possible, “The cold makes my bones hurt.”

“Okay, Grandpa,” I try to smile through the discomfort, but he just spits daggers with his eyes that seem set on sucking what’s left of a soul out of my body. I feel myself starting to deep freeze…

This is not what I wanted from this day. None of it…

Just moving my hand to hide my face until I can suppress the sagging of my mouth feels like it takes a thousand watts of energy I don’t have. I can’t decide whether I want to cover my eyes or my inverted smile. I don’t have the strength to try not to cry, but there are too many ways my body can cry, and I can’t hide them all.

I have to…sit…down…

Before I absolutely lose it.

I can feel my meltdown like the collapse of a glacier falling into the sea-

It’s the overwhelming desire to run away - make a break for it - shatter - or disappear like a black magic trick and just be anything but anyone who can hurt any longer -

I don’t want to feel like…

Alicia.

I don’t want to live like…

Alicia.

I don’t want to live afraid of this feeling coming back to bite me whenever I fear it the least. Expect it to leave or expect it the least. Undead griefs intent on dragging me with them into the-

Lise.

Please.

I’m gonna breathe. I’m gonna breathe. I’m breathing.

I plop down at the foot of Kattar’s couch. Not easy to do, since his legs take up most of it. He’s not even looking at me now, boredly eating some vegan chocolate-covered pretzels that must have been one of many snacks Holy Star gave him that he’s always ‘going to try,’ but never does. He’s still fiddling with that stupid rubber band, too, like it’s the most important thing in the universe. I feel about ready to boil over as I stare into his bitter disinterest, but I’m not sure what feeling is the one closest to the surface. Fury or misery or a marriage of both?

“Since when are you a snacker?” I mutter, just to break the silence.

“Since I don’t have an appetite to eat full meals,” still the same shortness.

“What’s with the rubber band?”

“My hands are locking up from editing videos all day.”

This is impossible. 

I feel like crying, and I don’t even feel like crying. Just going to sleep and waking up to find that today was nothing more than the most unreasonable of bad dreams. Just to have a meltdown and let Kattar try to comfort me - if he cares - or dares to - but I don’t want to let him make me cry - at the same time - as everything wells up all at once. Angry and frustrated and miserable and tired…so sick and tired of this.

“Ugh!” 

I think I scream, but I guess I don’t say it quite enough ‘out loud’ as I hurriedly shove off my jacket, and toss it onto Kattar’s living room floor, just to see if he reacts.

His face reddens notably, but he doesn’t look up.

“Kat…” 

He glares up at me slightly from beneath his dark eyelashes but seems to do a double take when he realizes that I am crying.

I am.

Like it or not. I don’t just ‘like’ him, and I can’t stand this.

I can’t take…

I can almost see the tug of war inside his brain. I can feel something in the back of his head yanking on his focus, trying to get him to do anything but look me in the face. Violent red is bleeding through his whole expression, but he stops and puts his head in his hand, trying to get himself to calm down.

What exactly is going on here?

How many men am I in love with? It feels like there are too many versions. Three or four Kattar’s…

When he gets himself to look me in the eye for 2.5 seconds, I can see matching questions and paranoia leaching into the inky black windows to his agitated soul, like he’s starting to wonder…and worry…the same thing.