Excerpt #11

His legs dangled over the edge of the building, swaying in the wind.

“Perhaps being happy is difficult for me because I refuse to be satisfied. Perhaps it is healthier to accept that I won’t be able to achieve everything I set my mind to, but no. Anything short of reaching the idealistic standards I have set for myself is a failure, and my inability to achieve my aims only serves to irritate the often dormant ambition in me. And as the failures grow, intrusive thoughts begin to eat away at my confidence, taunting me, whispering that perhaps the confidence I held in such high regards was not based on reality, but rather a false front I put up to tell the world that I am functional. That I’m not that damaged. That I could be of use, of some sort of significance, and be more than just a blemish in a society where the defects are covered up and hidden away.”

He produced a photograph from his breast pocket and began to tear it into pieces.

“Then comes the constant need for validation, the desire for reassurance that I am valuable, valued, that there is a reason I should continue fighting.”

He raised the pieces in the air, then opened his palms and allowed them to fall.

“It’s futile, the voices in my head tell me. You’re bothering the people you value most. They shouldn’t have to be burdened with your issues; after all, they never burdened you. They shouldn’t have to fill that void in you. Can they even fill it? What happens when they grow sick of it and leave? Will you ever find someone else to replace them, to fill the gap they once filled? I think not.”

The wind caught them, leading them in a slow waltz towards the bustling streets below.

“And yet, though these voices plague me, I tolerate their presence. See, the difficult thing to accept is that the voices are as much a part of me as salt is of seawater. You remove the salt, and seawater fundamentally changes. And as much as I am haunted by them, I don’t ever see myself becoming regular water. To evaporate myself and recollect myself is hard enough, but what if I end up being far less of a person than I am now? Would I be comfortable taking that bet?”

He paused, letting the rhetorical question hang in the air for a moment before answering it himself.

“No.”

“So it’s a vicious cycle of pondering and not doing, and refusing to change because the potential risk is too high a wager. Trapped in a downward spiral as the issues never get resolved, only to lurk beneath my mindless determination, surfacing when I allow myself to think.”

He took a deep breath and gazed over his city one final time.

“All I ever wanted to do was to die happy. I guess I’ll never be happy. I figured it’s a good time to just die.”

-Excerpt from Somewhere in My Mind

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Excerpt #10

“You were right.”
The passing traffic echoed along the empty alleys, dampened by the pouring rain.
“I’m not fine.”
He leaned against the side of a billboard, his eyes narrowed.
“But what would admitting that to you achieve? Would you have stayed? Would you have explained to me your reasons so I didn’t feel like a kicked dog? Would me not being fine meant anything to you?”
His emotions faded away, leaving only weariness in his eyes.
“I thought it wouldn’t.”
He sighed.
“So I would rather just tell you that I’ll always be fine. Be less of a burden on your decisions, because I know you’ll stick by them anyways.”
A faint smile hung about his lips as he straightened up.
“In retrospect, telling you this now is counterproductive to everything I tried to do. But hey, that only matters if you think I’m telling the truth.”

-Excerpt from Somewhere in My Mind

I’m fine because I can’t afford not to be.

“Why?” She breathed out a familiar question, waiting for an answer that will never come. And, deep down inside, she knew that too, but she asked again nonetheless.
“Why?”

---

Her eyes wandered to the note he had left her. She lifted the paper, running her fingers over the grooves of his familiar handwriting.
“Love, if you’re reading this, I’m probably already gone.”
The curtains billowed, caught by a gust that had found its way through the open balcony doors. Her hands trembled as she forced herself to keep reading.
“We both knew that this would happen at some point. And from our conversations before, I’m sure you saw this coming. You’re insightful, after all.”
She could see him pause and twirl his pen a few times, hesitating as he always did before deciding to let his sincere thoughts shine through.
“That was one of the many things I have always loved about you.”
A tear stain smudged the word “loved”, but she couldn’t be sure if it was his or hers.
“To be honest, I did not plan on writing this note, but it would be hard on you if I left without a trace, and I owe you that much, at the very least. Unfortunately, we both know that any explanation I could come up with would not be enough to satisfy you. So why don’t we let my thoughts justify my decision instead?”
She could hear a hint of his wry condescension, and she hated it.
“Patronizing until the very end.” She muttered through clenched teeth.
“I’d like to start off by thanking you. You did everything in your power in your attempt to change my mind, and for that I am very grateful.”
“I would also like to apologize for squandering your concern, but you never did take too kindly to my apologies.”
She was tempted to rip the note to shreds. Every single word was carefully considered, devoid of emotion, as he often did to maintain distant. She’s known him far too long to fall for this again. So much for letting his thoughts justify his choice.
She wanted to see the him who lurked behind the impersonal politeness, the him who expressed his opinions with a passion and unafraid to cry. But it seemed that, even at the very end, he could not allow himself to show her that side of him again.
“You once asked me what I cared about the most. Without hesitation, I replied ‘friends’. You then followed up with a question that stumped me. ‘If you cared about your friends, why would you contemplate death?’ At the time, I had no answer for you. But now, having made up my mind, the answer is quite clear to me. Friends make living bearable. Without them, I would have died a long time ago. But I am not drawn to living. I am drawn to friends. Living in itself is exhausting, and death is its only relief. So in life, I do care greatly for my friends, but they are a part of life, and, if pushed to choose between life and death, death is far more appealing.”
She remembered that night. It was the first time he allowed her to peek under his mask, and she loved him for it. There’s a certain warmth in someone showing you their vulnerabilities, and he felt more human to her that night.
She never did understand his desire to die. When he first brought it up, she cried, thinking it was imminent. But as the years passed, and he never progressed more than his words, she grew numb to it. His casual mentions of it had her assuming it was a macabre joke, a product of his poor taste in humor. His flippant attitude on the subject only angered her, as did his inclination to follow his thoughts with a smirk. But now…perhaps she should have treated him more seriously. If only she had heard the truth underneath his mirth. If only she had left enough of an impact to make him reconsider. If only…
“Knowing you, you are probably blaming yourself for this, but I’m afraid it has never been in your control. You of all people should know that I am not one to make emotional decisions. I weighed the options. Should I live another thirty years, against the ever increasing burden of life, just for the chance of garnering more happiness, or should I be satisfied with what I’ve experienced, and call it quits while I’m ahead?”
His words stung, rending her heart with their bluntness. In her mind, she knew he was wrong, but she could not form the words to argue against him. All that was left were the “why’s.”
“I agree. It is a rather selfish way of thinking, but could you indulge me, just this once? You once said you loved my stubbornness. You admired the lengths I would go, the sacrifices I would make to achieve something once my mind has been made. And this time, unfortunately, my love for you is part of my sacrifice. I apologize for any inconveniences I may have caused you, and you have my gratitude for all these years.”
“You could’ve said goodbye in person.” She muttered. She knew why he didn’t. She would have tried to stop him, and he would be torn between his decision and his love for her. He would either hate himself, or she would hate him, and he could not afford either. So he didn’t tell her, leaving a note to assuage her emotions, and clung to the hope that she would understand.
“I was never good at ending things. I suppose this is as good an end as I can manage. Please, take care of yourself. Yours truly…”
The letter trailed off in his messy signature. She set it down on the desk. Every fiber in her wanted to collapse, to scream, to make her displeasure known in some significant manner, but she kept herself together. She knew where to find him. Perhaps it was not too late. Clinging to that naive hope, she slipped on her coat and into her shoes, and hurried to his favorite drinking spot.
She struggled to catch her breath as she reached the lookout. Seeing his forlorn silhouette, she bit her bottom lip. He was slumped over on the bench they’ve shared so many times before, almost as if he was only taking a nap. Two cans of beer, one opened, sat next to him, the drying condensation on their sides taunting her. She took a ginger seat next to him and placed his head in her lap, stroking his cold hair.
“You knew I was going to come, eh?” She murmured as she cracked open the untouched can.
“Sharing a beer on this very bench, that was the start of it all, wasn’t it? You always did have a soft spot for the poetic.”
She drained it in one go. The stinging carbonation brought tears to her eyes and, with those tears, the emotions she had held back were freed. She crushed the can and tossed it aside.
“All the things we did, all the memories we shared, were they not enough for you? Was I not worth it, after all?”
She wept, her shoulders shuddering under the burden of all her regret and resentment. Her tears streamed down her cheeks onto his, leaving sparkling trails across his pale face. The world was silent, save for her grieving, until a siren echoed through the cityscape below, snapping her out of her sorrow. She wiped her face with a shirt sleeve, gazing down at his peaceful expression with puffy eyes.
“You may have taken the easy way out, but you’ve made it so much harder on the rest of us. Although, I’m certain you knew that, you insufferable, selfish bastard.” She bent to kiss his nose. “I love you.”
There was plenty of time to mourn later, but now, there was much to be done. She swiped open her phone, dialing three digits, a number she never thought she would have to dial.
And she sat there, cradling his head, until the sirens arrived.

You don’t miss something until you lose it.

“Y’gotta smile through the tears, Captain. Gotta always remember the good things, even when the bad things are happening.” Her cheerful voice echoed through his mind as the first clod landed on her coffin, splattering across and staining its pure white surface. People in their line of work never live long and, as sad as it is, everyone accepted that fact when they first joined. But logical acceptance rarely, if ever, dulls emotional pain.
The ceremony ended almost as soon as it began. The only guests in attendance were the other members of his team and, though each dealt with grief differently, they agreed that she would have wanted her funeral over as soon as possible. When the burial was complete, several took their leave, no doubt to visit the tavern or rest at home. A few lingered to mourn longer, but soon he was the only one left standing in front of her grave.
“I told you not to take the job.” He muttered.
“And I told ya to smile.” Someone patted his shoulder. He turned, only for his cheek to be poked by a cool finger. “Gotcha.” She beamed, her favorite pair of sunglasses nestled lopsided in her hair.
“…Surely you have better places to spend your Last Rite.” He adjusted her sunglasses. “You always wanted to find your parents, no?”
“Yeah, well, I figured that if I used my Last Rite to find them, you’d be sad, so I decided to visit you instead.” She winked. “Aren’t I considerate and sweet and nice and thoughtful and…” She trailed off as she noticed his whitened knuckles.
“The Last Rite is a valuable way to address any regrets you may still have. To squander it so thoughtlessly…I thought I had taught you better.” She scowled at his cold words, but her expression softened when she noticed the tears he was trying to hold back.
“Captain…I never knew my parents. The only reason why I wanted to find them was because I’ve always wanted a family. But I did have a family: our team. And you were the best father I could ever hope for. It’s a shame that I realized it far too late.” She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Please forgive your reckless daughter for leaving so soon.”
He pulled her into an embrace, his tears flowing free.
“You truly are the worst daughter anyone could ever have.”
She giggled and buried her face into his chest. “I’ll miss you.” She mumbled.
“I’ll miss you too.”
She pulled away from him. “My time is running out.”
“I see.” His expression returned to its usual stoic stare.
“Don’t join me too early, eh, Captain?” She smirked, the sunset casting a rosy glow on her cheeks. She flicked her sunglasses over her eyes.
“Don’t mistake me for a rookie like you.” He scoffed.
She stuck out her tongue in mock displeasure, then smiled. “Good bye, Captain.” She waved as she began to crumble to dust. “Take care.”
“Good bye.” He nodded and closed his eyes. A quiet crack echoed through the air, and when he opened his eyes, all traces of her had disappeared. With one last sigh, he straightened his coat, and trudged home.

Excerpt #9

“Heh.” An impish grin appeared on her face. He raised an eyebrow.
“What are you smiling at?”
“No, nothing. Just that you’re so much different from how you look.” The mischief in her eyes faded, leaving but an unreadable tenderness. “You should open up more.”
His expression darkened.
“No thanks. Nothing good ever came from allowing my vulnerability to show.”
He sucked in the frigid air through his teeth. He played around with his lighter, his other hand reaching for a pack of smokes he knew wasn’t there.
“Besides, I was never the type to open up.”
“But hey, look at you opening up to me right now.” She nudged him with her shoulder.
“Yeah, well, you’ll prove me right, sooner or later. And I suppose I’m a glutton for punishment like that.”
He tossed the lighter to her and stood up, patting off his jeans.
“Or perhaps I’m just that starved of affection.”

-Excerpt from Somewhere in My Mind

Excerpt #8

He shot a fleeting glance at her, bemused, before returning his eyes to the ceiling.
“The possibility of death at any moment is fairly depressing. The overwhelming weight hanging over your head almost makes you wish you were dead, but the fear of being unable to accomplish all the things you wanted to do prevents you from embracing it.” He flexed his fingers mindlessly. “Instead, you try to ignore it, pushing it to the back of your mind, telling yourself that there is a possibility for anything to happen, that the probability isn’t high enough to warrant any concern. And life goes on, as usual, until you almost forget that you have a constant death sentence. Then something happens.” He sighed, taking a sip from his glass. He winced from the bitterness. “It could be a sense of pressure in your head. It could be a lightheadedness that persists for days. It could be a pain, a sense of discomfort, that you cannot recall you have ever felt before. And that slight abnormality becomes the trigger. The weight on your shoulders is back. And this cycle occurs constantly, until you finally give in. Perhaps death wouldn’t be so bad after all. Perhaps not feeling anything would be better than feeling what you’re feeling now.” He shrugged and looked at her. “We all favor structure over spontaneity, and the unpredictable nature of death makes you wonder if it is better to take your own life instead. At least then you have control. At least then you could give your passing some sort of structure, to ensure those affected will be taken care of.”
The odd spark in his eyes faded away, replaced with a certain weariness.

Realizing that his rant was over, she frowned. “Putting aside the fact that you still haven’t answered my question, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, really. I just thought it was better for you to know the stakes before placing a bet.” He drained his glass. “So, how do you like the odds?”

-Excerpt from Somewhere in My Mind

Excerpt #7

He took a deep, ragged breath, his eyes weary yet full of conviction.
“​Would you miss me…if I were gone? If I were taken by the keeper of all that lived, the jealous one, Death. Or would I be a shadow on the wall, soon to fade without the light that flickered behind me every time I try to make my presence known?”
He paused, as if expecting an answer to his rhetorical question, but all that answered was the emptiness of the Void.
“No one is significant in the grand scheme of life. Temporarily, perhaps, but nothing survives the quicksands of Time. Once you get swallowed down the funnel, you are but a grain amongst a desert. All that would remain are your footprints in the sand, soon to be washed away by the winds.”
He shook his head sadly and, with a sigh, continued his rambling.
“Perhaps life is but a futile effort, but the fragility of life does not allow for the blatant disregard of accountability, of consequences that one may not feel the repercussions of. Yes, I yearn for Death, for she is the only one whom I believe would accept me as I truly am, but to actively seek her is to squander what little life one has. So I push on, as painful as it is, as unwilling as I am, not out of necessity, but out of my desire to adhere to my principles. I refuse to be one of the multitudes. I strive to shatter the hourglass, to leave something behind that I would be remembered by. And perhaps, someday, I will be able to leave a mark.”

-Excerpt from Somewhere in My Mind

It’s odd, how the usual comfort that the farewells are just temporary, that I will be returning the next summer, does not seem to accompany my departure this time. That in itself isn’t depressing, but it prompts further thought. Perhaps my subconscious understands that this time I may not be coming back for quite a while, and it is curbing my hopes for fear of damage caused by disappointment. Perhaps I’m no longer truly anchored to this place I call home, and the people that I want to see, to spend time with, may slowly be leaving here. Perhaps I’m finally growing up and realizing there is a whole lot more in the world than the fond reminiscences of my hometown. But none of these musings matter in the grand scheme of life; I’m set on a path, and I’m determined to follow it through. At some point, thoughts begin to impede progress, and that would be a problem. I’m satisfied with what I had accomplished this summer, but there is still much more I wish I had done. Perhaps if I had spent a little more time or put in a little more effort, I would leave in a better shape, but I’m sure I’ll have bigger things to worry about as I rebuild my life in the States. As of right now, before my thoughts become cluttered again, I think I’ll miss this place.

Most people set their New Years resolutions on the first of January. I make mine on the last day of summer. Cheers to a decent year.

Happy Birthday

“Happy birthday to me.”
The room was pitch black, save for two dancing dots of light, illuminating the outline of a melting 30. Rain splattered arrhythmically against the window. A streak of lightning flashed through the blinds, revealing a dark silhouette sitting at a cake.
“Happy birthday to me.”
The dark silhouette drew closer, swaying to the simple tune. It seemed to struggle with the leash around its neck. The harsh whisper made it impossible to tell the voice’s gender. The features of the silhouette’s face were barely distinguishable in the dim glow.
“Happy birthday to me~e.”
The voice quavered and cracked. Ragged breathing made the flames flicker as the silhouette sniffled. Its teary eyes reflected the burning wicks.
“Happy birthday to…me.”
The candles went out. A thud followed, as if something fell and was dragged along the floor. A sickening crunch resounded in the room, followed by a hacking cough, and then silence.
Another flash of lightning lighted up the room, revealing a limp mass dangling from the ceiling, its legs swinging gently.

healthy body, sick mind.

“So.” Her voice was stern, but her eyes sparkled with kindness. “Here we are again.”

“Here we are again.” He echoed, nodding to the dull thumps of her tapping foot. He tried to study her, but as soon as he focused on a single feature, the others blurred into a flesh colored haze. Giving up, his eyes wandered to his surroundings. It struck him that he did not know where “here” was, nor did he have any recollection of being “here” before, but he decided against voicing his concerns, expecting that she will soon explain what was happening.

“You really need to take your medication on time.” She chided.

Medication. He patted his pockets nervously, searching for the rectangular object that he had learned to hate, but couldn’t live without. He found it in his jacket pocket. He cracked it open and tilted his head back, greedily gulping down its contents.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, returning the capsule to its spot. When he opened his eyes, the world was sharper and he could see her face clearly. It seemed to him that he was in an examination room, talking to a nurse.

“There is no need to be so nervous. Loosen up.” The nurse jotted something down on her clipboard. “You have to release some of that tension before you pop, Ethan.” She stared at him reproachfully.

Was he really Ethan? She was talking to him, so he must be, right?

He nodded again. Noticing that his left leg was shaking, he shifted his weight onto it to quell it.

“Will I be alright, doctor?” His question came out as a hoarse whisper, in a voice he did not recognize.

The nurse looked at him curiously, pausing in her note taking.

“What makes you think that there is something wrong with you?”

She saw the confusion in his face and smiled.

“You’re just here for your checkup, remember?”

A checkup. That must meant something had been wrong with him. He could feel his stomach churning as panic slowly crept up his back. Both of his legs were shaking now, and it took a considerable amount of effort to still them.

“I don’t-” He coughed violently as the words caught in his throat. He wobbled as the coughing wracked his rib cage, and he struggled to regain his breath.

“Please, Ethan, take a seat. Would you like some water?” With a concerned look, the nurse guided him towards the chair he had been sitting in. He did not recall standing up or leaving the chair, and the discrepancy bothered him. Perhaps he was a bit more ill than he thought. His throat tightened and his mouth dried as he sat back down.

“Thank you.” He tried to steady his irregular breathing. He took his meds, didn’t he? Everything should be fine. He’ll be fine. There’s no reason not to be, right?

The nurse handed him a plastic cup. He downed its content, the coolness soothing his parched throat. He had not noticed his thirst until it was quenched. He leaned back and closed his eyes, focusing and willing himself to regain his composure. His ragged gasps gradually eased, but something else felt off. Chills jolted through his body as he realized he could not feel his pulse.

He hastily grasped at his chest, but there was nothing where his heart was supposed to be beating. The chills brought on shivering and his blood ran cold. He felt his head spinning. Or perhaps it was the room. The nurse looked concerned.

“Ethan. You need to breathe. Slowly.”

At her words, he realized that his lungs were screaming for air. To lost control of his autonomous body functions, was he going insane? He took a deep breath. No, he wasn’t. He should be used to this by now. After all, this wasn’t the first time, was it?

His heartbeats thundered in his ears as he shook off the dizziness. His head was throbbing now, and his body still does not feel like his own. But the pills finally seem to be working, and in spite of his turmoil, he smiled.

“Thank you, doctor.”

The nurse smiled at him as she jotted a few more notes down. “I’m glad you seem to be improving. Your next appointment is two weeks from now.”

She set her notepad aside and guided him to the door.

“You’re almost done with the recovery process. You’ll feel normal in no time.”

He turned to nod at her before leaving. “I know.”