The Absurdity of Fairy Tales

fifteen

..

You are my moon and my stars,

And I have wasted away

In your echoes for far too long.

..

Nick stays for a few more hours so I can talk everything out. It's a weird feeling to be so open and honest after being closed-off for so long.

I go to bed shortly after he leaves, but even though I'm completely drained, I've never felt more awake. My mind races like a New York taxi driver. I can't seem to get comfortable. Finally, after an hour or two of staring at the wall, I manage to drift off.

But the next day, the first day post-soul exposé, is even harder. Going to school is the most daunting thing I've ever had to do, because as soon as I walk in, it feels like everyone's looking at me, judging me. My palms start to sweat. In the back of my mind, I wonder if they know my secrets, if I have my truths and flaws scrawled across my skin. Yesterday left me stripped bare and vulnerable to the bone, and when they look at me, I feel like a sideshow attraction, put up on a pedestal for them to gawk at.

Nick must know this somehow, because as we walk to class, he grabs my hand and squeezes as if to say, it's okay, it's okay, I'm here. Immediately, I relax and squeeze his hand back: I know.

Philosophy, passes a lot quicker than it used to. It's always been my favorite class, but thinking too deep used to make me get even worse. Existentialism? My fault, my responsibility—yep, already got that one down. Skepticism? Yeah, I know a couple things, and all of them make me feel horrible. Meaning of life? Nihilism—life is meaningless, end of story. When you're looking for things to make you feel bad, there are no shortage of examples.

But now, I'm not so focused on finding the bad, and the panic or nausea or whatever you want to call it doesn't swallow me up so much, either. Now, I can sit back and listen as she explains theories of free will. And when she talks about Locke's Voluntary Prisoner, I don't hyperventilate.

"Is it free will," she says, "if someone only thinks they want to be in the room because someone they love is there too?"

I force my hand up. My entire body is shaking. "Yes," I whisper, clearing my throat. Suddenly, everyone's watching me.

"Why?" she asks, smiling gently.

I swallow thickly. "Because... because humans make their own choices."

When she turns back to the blackboard, Nick smiles at me like a proud parent.

And finally, it starts to sink in a little. I didn't shove them in their truck; they chose to do it. Yeah, they were still out there because of me. But just like I have free will to hate myself for it, they had free will to go out in the first place.

Just like I have the free will, no matter how hard it might be, to want to get better.

..

Next period, Math, is probably the hardest period of the day because I don't have any friends with me, but like Philosophy, isn't as bad as I thought. There's a brief anxious period at the beginning because Nick's not there, but it fades away quickly enough.

He's at my locker once the bell rings for lunch, and though we haven't discussed it, I know we're going to Milly's. Step one of the treatment, it seems, is to be re-integrated into normal life as quickly as possible. "So," he says as we start toward the door, hooking his thumbs through the loops of his backpack. "How was Math?"