The unspoken truth

I stared listlessly out the passenger seat window, as my friend jabbered on: “What a cool thing, this life growing inside you!”

I wanted to jump out the window. I didn’t know exactly how I felt about it, I did know I wanted her to shut up. Instead, I sat and stared wishing a void would open up and swallow me whole.

Ten minutes she pulled up in front of my dilapidated rental home I shared with 3 other girls. I half-heartedly hugged her good-bye and promptly jumped out the car. I walked into the dark dingy house – my only solace and protection from the outside world. Ignored my roommates sitting in the living room – no “hello, I’m home”—I couldn’t face cordialities, snuck up to my cold damp room, locked the door and crawled under the bed sheets. I loved this bed. It fit my purposes perfectly, big fluffy down pillows and comforter. It was perfect for cocooning in, hiding from the outside world.

I lied there wishing if it were possible for me to be invisible, or at least unnoticeable. I almost succeed because the only attention I got was that people noticed I was hiding and detached. I was detached. My body felt as if it were in another space and time, a separate entity entirely from my being. At times, I felt as if I was hovering over myself, looking down upon my body willing it to move. But it would not respond it would just lie there balled up, with a confused and pained look in the eyes.

Now this boy is gone, but in his place is the memory. He saw me through, my numb presence was breathed life through the simple act of him being around. He was the only reason I left my bed – not even the responsibility of going to work got me up.

We both helped each other, or at least it’s my belief. He was lonely – it would not have crossed my mind why, but my warmed body cuddled beside him, it comforted him. He would sneak up behind me, his paws cunningly extending and pulling me against him.

It more than comforted me. An alien had inhabited my body, detaching the vessel from my soul. It was a little pain in the ass. I had once whispered that out loud: “You are just like your mother, irritating.” When I spoke those words, they were certainly not mine because this inconvenience was not of me.

Yet, the act of being with him even seemed to quench the constant nausea – that and all the peppermint Mentos he used to buy me. He may never know he was my saving grace. The cuddles gave me comfort, the act of touching him almost made me feel pseudo human. If it were not for his presence, I really don’t know how I would have made it through. The thought of maiming my detached body never occurred to me, but was it because of him or for the simple fact that my mind could not process anything. Either way he never failed me – the solid existence in my life. He was my stability at a time when everything seemed unexplainable and chaotic.

After two months of the alien’s presence, it was sucked out of me. Probing tubes and bright lights took it back to where it was supposed to be – to the realm of non-existence. All that was left was relief. I felt relief. I felt.