[FIC] 365 Days

Title: 365 Days
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 998
Summary: There's 365 days in a year but it takes only one to make a difference.
A/N: I don't know what to explain for this one. Started this a long time ago, probably with an idea, but that idea never made it to paper (document). This is the bleak end result of a shadow of that idea. Still, this lies very close to my heart. I don't know why.

- - - - -

“I don’t know why you’re hurting yourself so much over this, Sheila,” my mother tells me. The words sound harsh to my ears, the implied meaning obvious to me. I’m doing something that she doesn’t approve of and she wants me to tell her why. She wants me to give her explanations that will make sense to her but I don’t have any of those. I only have explanations that make sense to me and I’ve learned over the years that those are not sufficient for others.

Everyone always needs reasons they can fit into their view on the world. If something goes against their idea of how things turn then it’s not right. If my reasons don’t cooperate with how they think the human mind works then it’s not a proper reason. No one ever seems to consider that maybe someone else’s mind doesn’t work the same way theirs does.

“It’s not that hard to live, you know. It starts with getting up from that chair, walking out of that door and doing something other than sitting here.” I shake my head, not because I disagree that that’s the start, but because I don’t want to do that. Because I can’t just do that. Because it’s not that easy. “I don’t get it, Sheila, I really don’t. What are you afraid of,” she asks with an exasperated sigh and for a short moment it feels like she does get it.

~*~

“What are you afraid of?” He asked once, trying to get to know me better, trying to figure out what went on in my mind. Back then I said I was afraid of the dark. Now.. Now everything changed.

Now I am afraid of being alone. Not really alone in person, but being lonely. Yet I always am. I crave for someone to hold me. It’s been too long since I’ve been hugged by someone and felt completely safe. There is no one who can make me feel safe. I’ve lost trust in the promises of good and better from others, and I myself stopped making such futile promises long ago. I think too much, doubt too much. I ponder over useless things, yet in the end they all seem so important to me.

I don't know why I care so much. I shut people out because I don't feel like they care. I shut people out because I know they can't help me and I would only be a burden to them. It's better not to let them know. It's better not to give them the burden of my pain.

That’s how I work, how I feel. I make things harder for myself, make things worse than they are because I don’t know anymore what it feels like to be fine, what it feels like to be happy. I let the positive things pass by and turn into memories before I really notice they were positive.

Maybe not everything changed. Maybe I’m still afraid of the dark. Only the dark is now inside of me.

~*~

“It’s been years.” It’s what Matthew usually tells me. He reaches out a hand to me this time as if to help me up when I’m actually already standing. I take the hand, send him a smile, let him know it’s appreciated but never actually respond to those words. We both know it doesn’t matter how many years have passed, nor does it matter how many more will pass, it’ll probably always hurt this much when people touch the subject.

Ever since he died, life doesn’t seem enough anymore to hold my feelings. This world is so small, so insignificant. We are all but little dots on a blank paper. We are all great in our own minds, but we are not great for real. What do we have left when life takes away those things we love most? I feel like I only now understand the real significance of what I’ve lost.

“There’s going to be a lot more years after this,” Matthew adds and I nod at him, a certain understanding settling between us as we start walking home, silence having settled between us for the umpteenth time.

~*~

Only I myself have witnessed the countless tears I cried over losing him. The countless tears I cried over everything. Maybe other people don’t need others to be strong, but I do. I have never been alone. None of us can be truly alone. We all need to have something or someone to keep us going. Something or someone to keep us sane. Some find that strength in themselves. Some don’t. People all have a different way of feeling well. My way is to know someone is there for me.

I need him to keep me sane. I feel like I’m losing myself. Losing myself to the dark in my mind.

~*~

Usually on Sundays I take a bus to the cemetery and sit down on a bench near his grave. I take out my iPod, plug in my earphones and lose myself in the world. I pick Sundays because it’s the only day where no one else seems to go there. It surprises me since Sunday is the only free day I really have in my week. Or maybe people do come but I’m just so lost in thoughts of him that I don’t even notice them.

Exactly one hour after arriving, I always start crying. Exactly ten minutes later, Lisa sits down next to me and wraps me in a hug. It’s a yearlong habit and we’re both already used to it. For some reason she is the only person who manages to make my tears stop and for those few minutes that she holds me on the bench in the cemetery I am convinced that I’m not alone. The feeling disappears again the moment we walk out of the gates again.

~*~

I don’t want to live because it hurts to do so without him.