I wake up with classical music playing in my head: my own funeral. It’s too bright outside. As much as I hated winter, I have trouble adapting to the sunshine and the smells of spring seeping through my window. In my dreams I fly a lot. I fly from spinning swing rides and crash into lots of people. I hover in the air, just above the ground. Mostly I fly off buildings and wait for my body to crack.
Someone in the building is cooking. It must be lasagne because I think I can smell beef and béchamel sauce. It’s 10:30 in the morning but it smells like dinner time. I know I should get out of bed but I can’t move. It feels like I have a wound in my heart and every breath I take pulls at the stitches.
Yesterday was a success in that I was able to attend my sort of niece’s birthday. I was anxious a lot but I was able to pretend to be okay. Today all of the pride I had has disappeared and every comment or conversation from the day is being massacred.
“I haven’t been up to much. I don’t have a partner or a baby so I am pretty boring.” Why do I have to be so awkward?
“Thank you for spending so much time with [birthday girl] today.” Was I getting in the way of other people spending time with her?
“That’s so cool!” Why did I say this so much? Is that my go-to phrase now? I need some other adjectives!
“Have you eaten anything yet? Have something to eat. Have some cake!” Don’t they understand how anxious I am about eating?
“Do you want to let’s try this over okay so for there…” What was I even trying to say? I wasn’t drunk, I was just nervous. Luckily I also happened to mumble a lot yesterday and no one seemed to hear that gem of a sentence.
There’s a whole other family who would miss me if I were to die. I think of my friend’s parents and what they might say, “She was such a sweet girl. She was so friendly, helpful and such a good friend to [my best friend]. [Best friend’s daughter] absolutely adored her.”
I know what they would say because they’re the sorts of things they say to me already. The only missing part is the part that would hit them slowly and stick around for months or years to come, “We had no idea she was struggling so much.”, and then they’ll wonder if there was anything they could have done.