How We Unravel

Seven

Seven: Midnight Art

I wish I could just shut my mind down, for a second, a minute, even a whole lifetime. Because then, I'd stop. That's the thing about having depression, you no longer control your thoughts. They control you. And that's something not everyone understands.

It's easy for others to say, "You'll get over it." or "You'll be fine, just stop thinking about it." when they don't know how badly I really want to stop thinking about it. How badly I want to be okay, to say the least.

Depression isn't about being sad. It's about being empty and not knowing how to stop. And I honestly don't know which is worse.

It's easy to wake up every day when you're looking forward to something. When you see the end of the sea, when you see your direction in life, and when you know which way to row; but if the sea is blurred with clouds and thunder and lightning that your mind produces, it's hard to even breathe, let alone live.

"Hmm," ngumuso si Art at tinanggal ang bed sheet ng kama niya. Even his bed was a mess but that was the least of my concern. I feel so exhausted na kahit sa carpet niya ay makakatulog ako.

He started changing the sheets of his single-sized bed, pati na ang pillowcase ng nag-iisa niyang unan. When he's done, he looked back at me, sweat was forming in his head. Pinunasan niya agad iyon nang mapansin na nakatitig ako roon. He turned the aircon on na tila ba nakalimutan niya at muling bumaling sa akin.

He is clumsy as hell.

"Dito ka na lang, tapos sa labas na lang ako," aniya at pinulot ang mga nakakalat na damit sa kan'yang kwarto. Tinapon ko ang sarili sa kan'yang kama, finally feeling the physical exhaustion I experienced over the past days. Saglit siyang lumabas at pagbalik niya ay wala na siyang hawak na makapal na bedsheet. Nagtungo siya sa cabinet at kumuha roon ng boxer shorts at puting t-shirt na mayroong nakapinta.

"Here," nilagay niya iyon sa tabi ko. "Kung gusto mong magbihis."

Ngumuso siya muli na tila ba nag-iisip, ang singkit niyang mga mata ay mas nakikita ngayon. "Ano pa ba..." he whispered to himself. "Ah, tubig."

Napailing na lang ako nang mabilis niya akong iniwan sa kwarto, at nang makabalik siya ay may dala na siyang baso ng tubig at first-aid kit. "Nagugutom ka ba? Pwede naman ako magluto ng corned beef, o bumili ng pagkain."

Kinuha ko ang baso ng tubig sa kan'yang kamay at uminom mula roon. I shook my head slightly, kahit nagugutom ako ay wala akong gana. "Salamat," I gave him the glass.

Lumuhod siya sa harap ko at inabot ang pulso ko. He slowly rolled the sleeves of my top, revealing my now open wound. He clicked his tongue and grabbed an antiseptic solution from his first aid kit and poured it on a cotton.

"You don't have to," I bit the inside of my lip.

"Baka ma-infect 'to," he replied without looking back at me. I flinched in pain when he gently placed the cotton on my wound. "Sorry."

Suminghap ako. I was waiting for him to ask questions, but he didn't, and that's something I really appreciate. I was lucky, and it was a relief because the last thing I want is to have someone bugging me about what happened. Hindi ko kayang ikwento ang nangyari sa 'kin, because then, that would mean I have to relive it all again.