The following is a dialogue between someone I know and someone else I know. Hopefully it will make sense to you for the most part. I like writing scripts so this just kind of stumbled out of me. When you’re done reading… whether it makes sense to you or not… let me know in the comments: What are you afraid of? I mean REALLY afraid of?
What are you afraid of?
That I’ll be forgotten. A failure that’s gone missing but nobody even knows or cares that she’s gone.
Hasn’t that already happened?
Yes. Kind of. I guess.
What’s left to be afraid of?
That I can’t come back.
Why do you want to come back?
I’m lonely. I don’t like it here.
What’s so bad about being lonely? You used to love being alone.
That’s when it was a choice. When I was taking some time out for myself. This is a time out I didn’t ask for. It’s a time out my mind, spirit and universe has given me and they didn’t tell me when or if it was going to end.
You have me.
You’re me. It doesn’t count. The fact that I can even have this conversation and not feel silly about it means I’ve been gone for too long. I actually talk to you now. At least I’m still aware that you’re me. If I lost that awareness… I don’t know if there’s a way back from that.
How do you know there’s a way back from THIS?
I don’t. But I’m trying. I don’t want to die. I want to keep trying.
What if we’re already dead?
That would be an interesting script. Someone wants to commit suicide, we see how they got there, their struggle when they’re alone over doing it or not, getting close to it but somehow they’re stopped. By a friend or their own fears. But in reality they weren’t stopped. They did it but they don’t know it. It wouldn’t be that hard to convince a dead depressed person that they’re still alive. If they never heard from anyone they would just let their self hatred convince them that it’s because no one wants to talk to them. Their non-existence would be pretty close to the irrational truth they normally live.
So you think we’re dead?
There is no “we”. You’re me.
You think you’re dead?
No. I went to a doctor today for a general checkup. I think being dead would’ve come up somehow.
Oh! Like the movie “death becomes her”!
Yeah. I remember that part. Of course I do. You’re me. If you thought of that then it’s because I thought of it.
Okay okay I’m you. Who cares? Why can’t we just talk and enjoy each others company?
Because that would make me a crazy person. Or a crazier person. I don’t want to be crazy. I want to be normal and happy and surrounded by normal and happy people.
Normal and happy is overrated.
That’s what I thought in high school. And college. And most of my 20’s. I was wrong.
You want to be normal and happy?
There’s no such thing as normal. But I want to be healthy. And I want to be happy. I used to kind of enjoy times of pain and heartache because it “inspired writing”. First of all, screw that. Halfway decent writing as a trade off for happiness? That’s ridiculous. Besides, I’ve had enough pain now. I have an ocean of pain to dip into for writing ideas. No more please. Please make it better now.
Oh you think this is the last of it? You think if you get better it could never be this bad or worse again? You don’t think others have had it worse than this?
I’m not an idiot. I know there’s more to come. I just want the happiness in between. Everyone else seems to get the happiness in between. I used to get it. I want mine back. I want to go back now.
You can’t go back right now.
We don’t know how to yet.
But sometimes I feel fine. Sometimes I feel excited about things to come. It’s not as bad as it was.
But it’s still bad enough. You’re not better yet.
If I act like I’m better, tell myself I’m better and work on my life to make it overall better… eventually I’ll just actually be better. The real better.
I have to try. What other choice do I have?
You always have a choice.
I don’t want that choice anymore.
You could live with your dad. He would be delighted to have you. Take a year, or two, or five off. Relax. Find a simple job in a small town. Close your social media and internet accounts across the board. Disappear. Try to live a happy “simple” life.
I don’t think I would like that.
It’s giving up. And it’s boring. It sounds like a cowards way out. I’d still be depressed. Maybe worse. I’d still be “here”… just in a different place with less responsibilities.
So then what are we going to try next?
Okay. Let’s try it.
Yes. I want to. I’m a little scared. But I want to.
What are you afraid of?