(Author's note: in comments)

As lost as Atlantis

I try to focus on the lights… or to at least appear as if I am focusing on the lights. I didn’t want to come. Our conversation is still stuck in my mind. But the full friend circle was coming, and I am too inferior to disrupt the completion.

But… why are your words ringing in my head like this? The lights are blurring and your words, not your voice, are ringing,… like chimes. Maybe my brain wants to find a loophole? I know that I do, but I don’t think that it’s right to want that, or is it?

I knew what you were going to say, and I heard it clearly too. I always heard what you said, even when it was hard, and you never refrained from hearing me, but will you now?

Because it’s you who is focusing on the lights now, and I am gazing at you. I want to try again but I know that I can’t, even if there’s nobody near you now. It’s amusing how we came to the fair as a group and then split up.

Someone knocks into me and I fall.

“Are you okay?” they ask.

I take their hand and pull myself up. They looked surprised, confused and falsely apologetic. Was that how I looked when you answered?

I smile anyway, “Yep, I’m cool,” and they go back to enjoying the fair without even hearing.

"I'm totally okay!, the bruise is healing!, I just have a bad headache!" I yelled back to the irritating voice without even identifying it, it didn't matter, they were all the same.

I fell to the bed and crawled towards the corner, trying not to use my left arm much. They just wanted to hear that it was okay, didn't they? But it hurt…, It always did, and that was the whole point. Ha, the number of questions sunk when they thought that I was bad with stairs, not with life, was amusing. Amusing.

I dust some sand away from my elbow and straighten my clothes. Some hues other than black are being welcomed into my wardrobe and I had to make sure that they didn’t look messy together. Oh my, it’s so funny that I started to care about what I wear, some months ago I wouldn’t have cared even if I looked like a ghoul, and I did look like a ghoul. Well, that was before the day I met you. Exactly before the day I met you. After that, I did start caring about the details.

From all the fair food before my eyes, I choose to buy a popsicle. The full thing is shoved into my mouth with the stick sticking out before I remember about being a little more mannerly and start devouring the popsicle slowly.

It’s weird that I still do care about the details…, don’t you think so? Isn’t it weird that I’m still striving to be better? That I still try to think a little before being a jerk? That I still care about what you would think in the back of my mind?

It is good that I’m becoming less cynical, like literally, but it’s still weird.

I lean to the wall and lift my arm to look at it, just below the elbow was a bruise worse than the one on my knee. It looked weird, weird, as it had a wound in the middle, dark with dried blood, and the blood that drained from the wound left a circle of pale skin to surround the scab, which was surrounded by the large patch of dark red-purple on my paling skin. Dark, pale, dark, pale, concentric circles, concentric circles, wasn’t that how Atlantis was? Land, water, land, water, land, water…

“Did you take your medicine?” The irritating voice.

Why does it have to interrupt me? Why does it have to interrupt the sinking of Atlantis? Why does it have to interrupt the sinking?

My right hand clawed at the sheets, digging into the bed.

Ah, my health, it was so important, because my grades were going down!, and they, were so important! My eyes tinkled and I blinked the tears away. Away?

It’s totally good that I am appreciating life and happiness and popsicles and all now but why? Okay, leave it, how would you know…

I am pretty sure that you don’t know why my motto became ‘life can get so awesome’ all of a sudden. You know that I was depressed, you know that I changed, because I told you, I loved talking to you. I loved hearing your rants more, it was hard to get you to open up, but that was okay, you didn’t talk stupid like others, there was that charm in your talk. But, now we avoid talking… maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

I’ve lost you from my sight now. You are another person in the crowd now, aren’t you? You still aren’t to me. But I walk without trying to find you. I am terrified that you will turn around and repeat those words, they were right, they were polite, but I still hate them. Or maybe I hate my… luck? Isn’t that selfish?, seeing your choices as my luck?

Maybe this could’ve been better if you just didn’t like me, it would’ve been easier to explain… and maybe I would’ve had a reason to be better? But it’s all different when the problem is that you can’t love me. You can’t, that’s just how you are, and I need to understand that, without turning my thoughts toxic again.

Why didn’t these people care about Atlantis? It’s inhabitants, they, they, were turning worse, with a mind just to tear down, they wanted disaster. They were losing ethics, were going frantic, with none actually making sense. They were turning toxic, even septic, getting more like prophesies than thoughts. And the irritating humans cared about my health, and my grades, would they care about Atlantis after the sinking

I am too confused, I started looking better, studying better, being better, just to please you, and it became a habit. But now I lost my reason. Should I hate my luck, or should I hate you?

My eyes burned, I blinked again because I couldn’t let the tears out, it showed weakness, I was weak, tremendously, but I didn’t want to show it. Didn’t want to show it. I would let everything build inside the walls until it bursts and crumpled everything. Everything. So, will they notice that Atlantis was going under? into the saline ocean… actually, they won’t…, they could only sense physical cracks, who can sense the fundamental auras of things they don’t care abou—

“Why aren’t you answering? Did you take your medicine!”

I clenched my jaw but crawled towards the edge of the bed anyway. They hated seeing even the physical cracks, didn’t they?

I glanced at the mirror as I trembled towards the medicine shelf…, hm, well, the physical cracks were rather visible. My face looked pale, contrasting with the dark circles around my eyes, my almost tattered black cloths and messy head of unmannerly hair made me look like a ghoul. And to add to it, my body looked shriveled up, even my arms looked skeletal. Skeletal. Well, that’s news, two months of food and sleep deprivation can do that much to a body, wow, wonderful knowledge. I scoffed at myself.

I just want believe that there is a loophole and continue being better for you.

I neared the shelf and shoddily grab the paring knife I kept there. The blade felt cold, I pressed the flat side lightly against my cheeks; a serene sensation took over Atlantis, as if everyone in it stopped destroying it to enjoy a moment of the sea breeze and the soft rain. The rain which had all the potential to turn into the storm which would end it all. End it all. I blinked, took the knife away from my cheek and stared at it while grabbing my tablets from the shelf.

Was it for good or bad that I noticed at the last moment that I was literally going to end it all by swallowing the wrong medicine? What would have that been called? Accidental suicide? Sounds funny

But my conscience is screaming at me to hate you and walk backwards, devolve, because without you, there’s no point.

I threw the wrong one back, placed the right flat, oval, white pill on my table and used the knife to crack it into imperfect halves with a loud snap, why didn’t I buy the ones with the right potency? Eh, Atlantis forgets details sometimes. I grabbed the half glass of water from the corner of my table and used it to swallow both the pieces of the pill. Atlantis wants to forget the details sometimes.

I don’t know which way is wrong, I don’t know which is right. I don’t know what to do, I am so confused. I can’t find my way in this mess of lights, but I find you in front of me and that’s making me more lost.

I grabbed my earphones on the way back, sat on the edge on the bed and feebly extended my arm towards th—

“You should sleep now.”

“Ye—”

“You have to sleep, right now; I don’t want you fainting again, do you know how much trouble that was? No more sitting in front of a screen, you…

I couldn’t hear anything more, nothing more; the pounding in my ears were getting louder, I fell into my bed again. Again. Tears. Tears. I rolled over, burying my face into a pillow. Tears. I just didn’t want to be taunted about them too. I didn’t want to feel as if I belonged in a corner. I just wanted to be considered as something with a mind. Considered. As Atlantis. Sobs. But I was too weak to protest. My arm Hurt. Hurt. My head hurt, my chest hurt, because of thinking and breathing and living. Living? When was I living?

Maybe Atlantis was already sunken, because it wasn’t living anymore. It was just stuck. Sunken and stuck. As a myth never to be understood. Sunken and lost. Sunken so deep that nobody could find it, or know it. Nobody could know it. Atlantis. Sunken and lost. Forever. As concentric circles. Concentric circles.

You are just another character in my life, shaping it in a way, creating plot twists, but I don’t know if anyone can ever match your place. Because now, when I find you in front of me again, laughing with someone in a way that I wanted to make you laugh, I feel that tinge of jealousy. It’s plain, I just can’t hate you, but I won’t hate myself again either. Atlantis is rising, and it’s not stopping, but I have to admit, these concentric circles… they are still lost, and, for now, I am okay with being lost...

Because even Atlantis can be found.