It's hot. It's stifling, suffocating, eveyrthing-humid hot. And we sit there, in the room, deliberating over another movie to watch. I say no, no; not the Labyrinth. Not Pocohontas. Not Lord of the Rings or Pride and Prejudice. It's so hot. I feel like I'm drowning. Still, I don't wanna go out and be on my own. Haven't felt like doing that in a long time, because then those feelings come back and I start thinking about walking in front of trucks or writing a farewell letter. It's not the time for that.
I'm too young, one voice says, I've got a lot left to do. A lot left to see. And then another voice, a monotonous, weary-worn shadow of my own, it says it's all the same. People are the same wherever you go, just different clothes. Same city, different buildings. Nothing is magic. Nothing that can make you happy will make you happy forever. Nobody stays. No matter how much you love anyone or how much they love you, nobody stays. Voice 2 has a lot of points that prick and sting and bleed and maybe scab over. But they come back, deeper and sharper, ripping open the surface. I used to talk to the sea and look out as far as I could, thinking how wonderful it was that I could see no end. When I was little the world seemed so huge but now it seems so, so small.
So, I address the problem, I've read in a lot of diffferent places that if you have something on your mind you should always tell someone, unless that something will hurt them. I tell the people in the room because I know that what I say will not hurt them because they're in a daze. And, anyway, they won't take me seriously.
So, I say "Guys. I find it so very, very, very annoying that I don't know the meaning of the universe."
It's always a good idea to open something serious with a more colloquial statement. Kinda dresses it up, so as to avoid alarm.
Everyone laughs. I laugh too, but then I say "No, guys, I mean it."
They laugh again.
"Mikee, no one knows the meaning of the universe." Stories that end with no one getting what they want.
I say "Yeah, I know that. You don't understand."
I sigh. I know this isn't going anywhere, I'm digging myself a grave, or more, walking around in one. I say "I mean. If the universe has no meaning then everything is pointless."
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I bet we've all heard this before, but you gotta be nice and see it my way.
And they shake their heads, Rachel speaks up "So? Why does there have to be a point?" People stuck in one place for ten years so you get back and they're all wrinkles and debt.
My lord. If anyone knows me, I'm a girl who appreciates things of practicality and rationalisation. If there is "no point" then there really is no point. That is my rationale at play.
"Maybe the point is to be happy."
For what? A year? A month? a single moment? Then it's gone again. And I'm back to square one. So, I tell them, I tell them
"I can't find a good reason to do anything." Sleep. Eat. Anything at all.
Pragya shakes her head and says "It's just a phase you're going through. Once in Year 10 I went through a huge phase of being really paranoid about global warming."
Sometimes I pray that the polar ice caps will melt and freeze everything.
"You don't understand!" How cliche of me. Most days I wish for an apocalypse. Whenever I cross a road I imagine a car hitting me. Maybe a bus. Maybe I'll die or be crippled forever. The group is losing attention, wanting to talk about something else. And just like that they let go of the rope I threw to them. Hannah says "Geez, way to kill the mood." Sorry. Chelsie says "I could depress all of you guys if I wanted to. But I won't." I look at her and say "Try."
-Mikee
