Slowtown

8

"Tyler, go home, let's go home," he's saying.

I won't go anywhere with you.

I catch myself after that thought. What a joke. What is my mind playing at? Control? Discipline doesn't work for me anymore, so unfortunately, the thought is in sad vain because I know better than anyone that I am weak willed, and dent under the lightest pressure, bend under the mildest provocation. Just this morning–I didn't entertain the idea of going to school for very long before shoving it aside. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Yeah, alright, of course. I guess at this point I could say it's been hardwired into my brain, this system of give up, so all my thoughts are predestined, doomed.

So sure Josh, let's go home, that's good.

He turns his head and says to the woman, "We'll come back later."

What the hell man, I just got over this notion of I'm going insane, don't make me relive it.

As we leave, I care to notice that her front door was never locked when we burst in. First instinct: judgment. People in this crazy ass town– no, this is your town. You remember this place, don't you? Of course I do. Okay, let me stop myself; I know my brain is playing weird tricks on me, and there's a feeling creeping up on me. Oh come on, I can't believe all this shit they claim happened to me, how do they know anything? But my skepticism is growing weak.

I watch my feet while walking down the middle of the road, observing the timing of the sound my feet make on the pavement, it's like cracking that makes small echoes further down the street. ... I'm wearing shoes? Since when? But I just...  just woke up this morning, I didn't put anything on before Josh took me away. My feet feel tight, and I guess that's my proof that I have been wearing shoes this whole time. Ew, did I sleep in them? Ew, did I sleep in these jeans, too?!

"So, did you understand what Lisa said? About here?"

I squint at Josh. "No." What does he think?! Why, yes! I accept that I've experienced extreme trauma, and am going insane!

"That's okay, I know it takes a while to make sense of. She's good at explaining stuff scientifically, but it is hard to understand, and hard to believe."

Can he just stop talking? I don't want to know anymore. I listen more closely to the cracking echoes down the street, but he's not letting me be at peace with my denial.

"It's like this: think about a time when you felt the world was going too fast, and you can't catch up. It makes you feel tired, doesn't it? And if your body is tired but can't get rest, you'll collapse. That's pretty much what happened to your mind. You were probably under a lot of stress for some reason, and when something happened - maybe something scary - your mind caved in on itself. You get it?"

His efforts to clear things up for me are stupid. "No, I don't get it at all! Is this place all in my head, or is it real? I'm going crazy! I don't- I don't want to be here!"

His response is immediate, "But do you want to be back there?"

It strikes me how much he sounds like he knows what he is talking about.