BLUE

Labyrinth

Ever wonder what it feels like to wither away from the world? and everything and everyone around you? Like what it feels like when you realize that you are no longer a part of reality?

What does it really feel like to live inside your head all day all week?

I don't really know how to explain it because I haven't really lived outside my head in a long time and I don't really think it feels like something else; something else that you know in your blood what it feels like, like how you know what Norman Fucking Rockwell feels like.

Realizing actually feels like, like when you wake up from a five and half hour nap on a 31-degree summer day. Like what it feels like inside you, all dry, your mouth, your lips, your brain, all the tubes inside you, all dry. And then you gulp down a hotter black tea to chase the thirst away.

Don't ask me how I stuff my whole body inside my small head either cause I have no idea how I do it, how I did it, although all the time. I just know it when I'm there, that I am inside my head with all those thoughts, mostly bad, possibilities, comparisons, expectations, norms, emotions, faces, food, conversations, words everything floating around me in a yellowish-green solution.

"Remember how we childishly thought how we were gonna last together forever" he says and laughs sarcastically. "We really were kids hahaha."

'God I still hate his laugh' I think. 'And jokes on you. I knew from the beginning that we were never meant to be together.'

I scoff and drink my beer.

"You know I wanted to help you. But- " he takes a sip. "But you weren't going anywhere. And-" His head hangs down like he is dead.

'Stupid bitch.' I take another sip.

"And" he lifts his head up. "You know I really wanted to help. I know what it feels like. I know how hard it is"

he. says.

I feel my insides starting to burn and all I want to do right now is just hear the sound of this glass bottle smashing on his head and glass shattering everywhere. And see him falling sideways on the floor and his cheek jiggling up and down like an expired disgusting red jelly in slow motion.

And instead, I scoff.

Because I knew from the first moment I saw his face, that he doesn't have the mental capacity to stuff his very big body inside his head and experience what I feel every day, even if he wanted to. I would've loved to help, cause love for me, is that.

Experiencing together.

"And Jules"

'Apparently his new girlfriend'

"She is lovely."

'Good for you.'

"and mentally stable.... you know."

'Good for her.'

"and I loved you Rue I really did." he says his head hanging down. Drunk.

.....

'Believe it or not. I did too.

You were good. Your head was bigger. It was not that you were a distraction like you think you were. You were better than that. You had a bigger head, so I had more space to cram my body inside it.

But something was always off. I always wondered, whether I was crying whenever I was inside your head, was because I was sad, as I was supposed to be, or because I loved you, and your bigger head so much.

And i had no idea how to put that into words and explain it to you, to myself, that I was crying because I loved you very much. Cause that doesn't make sense to the world, though it did very much to me.

And of course, it was a lot for me.

I had enough in my pukish solution to deal with.'

This is a mess i know. But wanted to write something. Thank you always for reading!!