Acumen: Riddling Life

38. Bucharest, Romania

Day 49

Three days.

Two and a half, to be exact, we spent here, in Bucharest. It truly is a city of contrast and incredible nightlife. We also stayed two and a half -almost three- days in Budapest.

Five days ago, Theo called. For over 120 hours, life's been happening to me. Again.

I don't recollect anything from these past days. I perceive we went to most tourist attractions, tried different food, Arianna taped her videos. But my memories are blurred, I cannot identify an action, not even the places we visited. It's a black gap in my head.

Similar to before. Nothing non-academic from high school and a large part of college, other than the spectacle highlights have been saved in my brain. I know I studied, but how long, or other things I did along with it, is missing in my memory. Did I read, or slept? Maybe watched movies. They're forgotten.

Once I told my psychiatrist I have no memories of my actions in the past week, like at all. He said it's a side effect of depression and then doubled my dose.

I think I tried to behave in a manner that everything's fine. That I'm fine. Although I can't remember how convincing of an act I put up.

Everything is in slow motion, but yet too fast to process. Nothing feels real. Me, the other three. The locations we traveled to, the things we did. None of them seemed real.

Jennifer Niven in All The Bright Places had named this state nicely: Awake and Sleep.

I wasn't awake; I was asleep.

I stare at the dark sky visible from the window. For how long, I cannot tell, but when I glance at the watch hanging on the wall, it reads past midnight.

I push myself to my feet, I should try to sleep. That's something I'm in desperate need of. But I either can't or rather not to, with all the nightmares.

I must pull myself together before it gets too late and Arianna, Dylan, and Adrien realize what a wreck I am.

Shifting my weight from one leg to the other, I stand next to the nightstand, contemplating my following decision.

I shove my hand through my mess of curls. Walks always clear my mind. And it's not like I'm sleepy, just tired.

At least I can do whatever I want, without needing to explain myself to anybody.

I pick my keycard and tread out of my room, making my way to the elevator. Soon I find myself walking towards the back door, leading to the garden.

The chill in the warm night is pleasant on my skin. The smell of earth and plants filling my nostrils as I walk deeper into the garden on the paved path.

I tuck my hands into my pants pockets.

Thinking about it, I cannot understand why I didn't die after taking all those pills. It's silly, but I can't help considering it. Nothing good has happened after that. If I had died, I never had to go through pain.

And what's the point of living, anyway?

Dead people are always loved. It's as if the moment you bury someone, all the negative things regarding them get buried along with them. Although I would much rather be lost in oblivion than remaining in untrue memories.

I shake my head as I try to shove it aside. I need to stop pondering over it, and pretend I'm fine before others get sick of me.

Focusing on not stepping on the cracks of the pavement, my brain soon goes empty.