A Life In War

I can't feel my feet. I think I've been standing here too long, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Not the way my feet are cold or the way my throat feels like it's made of glass, splintering with every breath. I can't even remember the last time I really took a full breath. I'm not even sure I know what it's like anymore. The room… everything is too quiet. Too still. But there's this ringing in my ears, a constant sound like buzzing, like something inside me is screaming to get out but can't. The silence… it's thick, suffocating. It's the kind of silence that makes you feel like you're drowning in it. I used to be able to move through the world, to walk, to feel. But now… I just feel like a shadow. Like I'm made of something lighter than air, just floating through a world that's too heavy for me. But no one sees it. No one sees me. She doesn't see me. Mom. I haven't heard her voice in days. It doesn't feel like days. Feels like an eternity. It's been forever since I heard her say my name like she meant it. She's always… always busy with something. And I'm just here, stuck. Waiting. Trying not to break apart. She used to hold me. I remember that. I remember when she used to wrap me in her arms and tell me everything would be okay. I was too young to understand what she meant, but I believed her. I believed her with everything I had. She was my safety. She was my world. But the world breaks, doesn't it? It shatters, piece by piece, until you're left holding something that doesn't even look like what it was. It's broken. It's ruined. And you're still trying to put it together even though you know you never can. I don't know what happened to her. I don't know what happened to us. But I know something is wrong. I know it in my bones. She's not the same. She's never been the same since… since that night. I hate myself for thinking it. For wishing it. But it would've been better if it had been me instead of him. I wouldn't have felt this. I wouldn't have to carry this weight. It's too much. I'm not strong enough. I remember the day they told me. I remember the look on her face—so blank. Like she wasn't even there. Like she wasn't really hearing me when I screamed for her. When I begged her to say something. Anything. But she just stared at me, and I could feel her breaking right there in front of me, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to fix her. I didn't know how to fix any of it. When they said his name, I didn't understand. How could I? I couldn't see how it could be true. How could it be real? He wasn't supposed to leave. He wasn't supposed to be gone. Not like that. Not… not so suddenly. I didn't even get to say goodbye. I didn't get to tell him I loved him one last time. All I have now is the silence he left behind. And it's killing me. There's a weight in my chest. It's been there for so long, but every day it gets heavier. I don't even know how I'm standing anymore. I don't know how I'm still breathing. But I am. Barely. Mom never talks about him anymore. She doesn't look at me the same way she used to. I catch her eyes sometimes, and she looks away. She's afraid of me, I think. Afraid of what I might say, afraid of what I might feel. But I'm not even sure what I feel. There's a numbness. A hollow inside of me that echoes whenever I try to feel something, anything. Sometimes, when I'm alone, I'll scream. I'll scream until my throat is raw and my lungs are on fire. It doesn't make a difference. Nothing changes. The emptiness stays. I try to be normal. I try to do the things I'm supposed to. To go to school, to talk to people, to smile. But it doesn't work. It never works. It's like I'm pretending. Like I'm wearing someone else's skin and I'm just waiting for it to fall off. Waiting for it to slip and reveal what's underneath. I'm not real. None of this is. Not anymore. I thought I'd feel something different by now. Maybe even a little peace. But there's no peace in this house. No peace in my head. No peace in my heart. Just an aching, gnawing hunger for something I can't even name. The walls are closing in, and I can't breathe. I think about what it would be like to just leave—to run away. But I can't. I don't know where I'd go in this war filled world. There's nowhere to run from this. From her. From me. I want to scream at her. I want to shake her, to tell her that I'm still here. That I need her. But I can't. I don't even know if she would hear me. I don't know if she even wants to. It's been so long since she held me. I don't know if she remembers how. I don't know if I remember how to feel loved anymore.