house of memories | phan

2. the electronics of your heart, see how fast they fall apart

There's something captivating about the boy. He has ebony black hair and luminous blue eyes that seem to light up his entire face, and I feel a smile tugging at my lips every time he laughs. His laughter fills the empty air of my dim bedroom and suddenly, I don't feel quite so alone, though technically I'm on my own in my room with my blanket pulled all the way up to my chin and my fingers gripping the warm fabric like it's going to move somewhere if I let go. I scroll downwards on the page to find out the channel name of the boy with the long black hair and startling blue eyes.

AmazingPhil.

The boy's name is Phil. I think it suits him; it's short and cute, but also stern and fucking beautiful. Maybe I'm crushing on him a little bit, but maybe I just like the distraction of someone else's voice in my room other than my own droning noise for once.

Sometimes, it's nice to forget about existing and forget about responsibilities and just disappear into a little portal in your mind where no one can find you. And you have all of the imaginary characters that don't know you in real life that you've conjured up in your head, but they hold your hands and drink milky coffee with you and sit around in lazy bookstores with you on golden days with sunshine pouring in through clear windows, and people holding hands and kissing on the streets outside the stores. Everything is safe in your head and in your dreams.

I listen to Phil's voice after the sun dies down behind the buildings on the horizon, and watch him as he tells stories of how he thinks he's strange and weird and what he thinks of the world, and I relax. I feel like maybe I'm not alone in the great big universe, and I feel hopeful for tomorrow, even though tomorrow is Saturday and I don't have school which means that tomorrow can't be as awful as a weekday. I still feel hopeful, though.

As my eyelids start to slide shut with sleep, I hit the pause button as Phil begins to talk about animal sounds and tuck my laptop beneath my bed. It's after one in the morning now, but I don't care. I feel peaceful. It's the kind of peace that won't last until morning light, but it's enough to send me to sleep with the smallest smile on my face and my fingers crossed.

I missed my 11:11 wish tonight. But that's okay, because tonight I spent my 11:11 watching videos of a person I've never met in my entire existence, yet feel as if I've known them my whole life. I spent my 11:11 with an unfamiliar face that made me feel calm and happy, and I suppose my 11:11 wish speaks for itself.

Tonight, I wish for a friend who can make me feel like Phil makes me feel.

"Thank you," I whisper into the darkness of my room to a boy who'll never hear my voice and never know my name.

Soundlessly, I close my eyes and fall into a dreamless sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

+++

I wake up in a tangled knot of bedsheets and sweat sticking to my skin. I blink, my eyes puffy and blurred with sleep and restlessness, and I reach my fingers out blindly to find the time from my iPhone on my bedside locker but my fingers grasp at the empty air.

And then I remember my phone falling out of my pocket and onto the floor as I squeezed through the bathroom window yesterday.

"Shit," I close my eyes and my head falls back against the pillow. Those boys that were tormenting me yesterday probably swiped it from the floor and have it now. "Oh, shit."

I roll the duvet away from my body and push myself out of my warm bed, and every movement I make reminds me of how fucked up my head is. Every step I take towards my closet makes me feel tired, even though I've only woken up. And I'm not physically tired. I feel emotionally drained every day, and every day bleeds into the next, relentlessly. It weighs my body down and makes throwing myself off bridges and into traffic sound like good ideas.