I could not foresee this thing happening to you.
In the moment, you sometimes hold the truth so close and so undeniable that this feeling will last forever. You’ll remain in this state of peacefulness and happiness, content, and live the rest of your peaceful and happy life peaceful and happy.
Time slows or stops altogether. Like the still silence between asking, “Will you marry me?” and seeing tearful eyes reply, “I will,” the opening of an envelope addressed to you from your dream school’s dream program, and 60 seconds on a treadmill, you now bear witness to eternity. Except you’ve already heard the answer to your question, read the acceptance to your new life, and completed your workout. Your eternity is elation, peace, and happiness. You know this to be true.
But in a moment, it’s all over, and you admit to yourself the truth you’ve known all along, that the feeling you seek is so far and so unattainable, and the truth was a lie. Just as you heard the answer, read the acceptance, and completed the workout, those moments were over, and the afterglow didn’t last forever. It never lasts forever.
Even when the moments build, the weeks and months pass and the glow remains, and the small victories appear so large and the big setbacks seem so little, it doesn’t last.
“You fool. How could you fall for this… Again?” He asked himself, aware it was a rhetorical question for which he knew the answer, but also aware he had tricked himself before, many times, so how could he trust his knowledge now, and could he have faith his awareness was not full of deceit?
“Many times. How many times are you going to do this to yourself? Many times. You know the glow will turn to dark. A grey tint will be placed over everything, a dim shade on everything you see. The sky will fade to black.”
“How did I get here?” He sat, and wondered, and sat and wondered again, some more. Longer, as time passed, longer than the 60 seconds in which he was eternally content. He rolled over, eyes pressed against his forehead, weighted behind pain, waiting on a savior to bestow mercy upon his misery. How much time had passed, he didn’t know, and rightfully so, it didn’t matter. He could lie in bed hungover for another 4 hours before he had to try to salvage his day – another 14 hours before he had to try again to begin the next day.
But this hangover wasn’t like the other ones. It was different. More painful. More hopeless. More internally inescapable. Because like all of the hangovers from nights out or nights in drinking, the fog still drifted through his head. But unlike those blackout memories, none of this derived anxiety was the result of physical stimulation.
“How did I get here?” He said, puzzled at the question that lay before him, tangled in his mind, like his restless body in his wrinkled sheets. “I was just so happy. Things were going so well. Aren’t things still going so well? What happened? I was just so happy.”
“I’m just so happy.” He got off the phone with his best friend. It was the first time they caught up in a while.
They didn’t used to have to catch up. They used to live in the same city, and their lives used to not be too busy.
But this was how things went at a certain age, inevitably. And they were grateful they both still cared enough to catch up, undeniably.
And after he let her talk first, to get up to speed on her life, so that he could talk at length about his, he then, well – he then talked at length about his.
“Well, I guess there’s professionally and personally, but both are going well. Um, professional world first, I guess,” he stated as he wandered to his car from his apartment.
“It’s looking like I’m going to get the promotion, and that’s pretty cool. I’m still not sure how excited I am about this career path, but it’s not a bad place to be in. At least, I have put in the work, so getting rewarded for it would be really nice. The salary, too – I wouldn’t complain about more money.”
He was concentrating more on the conversation than he devoted attention to the task at hand, but how much brain power did errands require, he figured. The weather app that he never checks said sunny, high of 74 degrees, with a 10% chance of rain. The predicted forecast checked out – it was sunny, it felt like more-or-less like it was in the 70s, and there was no sight of rain.
“The personal life. It’s been random, but good. Like very random, but very good. I can’t recall the last time I’ve felt this confident. It’s weird, you know, you go through periods of just wanting to be inside at all times, inside your apartment but not stuck inside your head, hidden away from the chores of the world for the day. But lately, I haven’t felt any of that. I’m going to new places, meeting new people – girls, you know. Numbers. Dates. It’s all coming together. Hell, even my old clothes look better.”
He spoke the words genuinely. He meant them. He believed them. He sincerely said them.
“I guess that’s it, though. After all, what else is there to life? In the world?”
He knew she was listening, attentively, thoughtfully, and carefully, but he was talking to himself. This dialogue was crafted as a conversation in his own head, repeated to himself at various points throughout the day, when he lie in bed at night trying to push the thoughts away, and in front of the mirror, this is what he had to say. That’s probably why it didn’t seem so real.
“It was good catching up. Let me know next time you’re back in town, and I’ll have to come up for a trip sometime. Glad to hear things are going so well. Let’s not go this long without a call again. I’ll probably text you my thoughts during the game tomorrow though, ha. Take care.”
He hung up, nearing the cash register on his afternoon trip. Some toiletry and trivial purchases later, and his self-mandated tasks were complete. He embarked upon the return trip to his apartment. On the accomplished journey home, he noticed the atmosphere above him begin to change – or more accurately, had already changed, and was continuing its trend toward a bleaker projection.
He parked his car within the lines, offputtingly perfectly straight. It wasn’t 5:59 PM yet, or even close, but the sun he knew so well earlier in the afternoon was gone. He had grown so accustomed to it while he was driving and spending time inside buildings; now it felt so new without it. He didn’t know how to react at first, getting out of the driver’s seat, the windshield left without a purpose without a sun. Everything he talked about earlier became so distant. But as he moved to the backseat, to the few full bags sitting there, an unsettling feeling began to creep in. Everything he spoke of was so fake. He walked to the front door of his apartment, bags and unsettling feeling in tow, making themselves at home. He was a fool. By the time he put the bags on the counter, the sky enveloped him from outside his windows, and he was consumed with an overwhelming need to navigate to his room and find his bed. But he couldn’t fool himself. The need was present in all of his senses, and when he thought about it, he was finally able to make sense of it.
“I know how I got here.” He said, no longer puzzled at the question that lay before him, once tangled in his mind, like his restless body in his wrinkled sheets. “I knew one day it would come for me, one day it would be back. I’m not sure how I ever could forget. The darkness would take hold – the darkness has taken hold, and I’m not sure now if I can remember the light.”
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