⛔ Mental Health Warning

Uber Drivers, Deep Talks, and Finding The Will To Heal Lung Cancer

I wonder if car stereos are cosmically synched to the current mood of our lives. The sound of Stop Crying your Heart out by Oasis hums in the background as Raiden instructs the Uber driver with the address to our flat.

We are both at the back of the car—separated by the abyss of the middle seat between us.

My forehead is stuck against the cold window glass in an attempt to avoid his gaze.

He exhales loudly. "It's always the same story with you, Sunset."

I can hear the disappointment in his tone.

"We hang out. You become friends with my friends. You date them. You drive them crazy. They hurt you. You burn something of them. They find out and I end up fighting them for you," my brother rants.

"Too much partying you two?" the Uber driver interjects.

Raiden and I glare at him.

"You always do the same, Sun. After everything that happened, I thought you would have grown up a bit. And I was happy here. It was hard for me to be here on my own, and I manage to find a community. You can't come here and just ruin it for me."

A tear rolls down my cheek, and many more choke my throat.

I always repeat the same story. He is right.

"I'm sure you can find friends of your own. If only you'd actually attend university. Dad doesn't deserve that. Neither does mum, you know?"

I swallow hard. "But my anxiety-"

"Enough about that. Just overcome yourself. Grow up. Where does your anxiety go when you take the bus? or when you got o work? Or when you flirt with my friends"

His words silence me because now I see that he will never get it. I know it feels picky, but for some reason, my anxiety only triggers at university and when I drive—which makes sense because that's the last place I was with my mum before the accident and during the accident. So, I just think it's so much more than my anxiety. My mind feels like a cake with too many layers, the anxiety being fresh putty at the bottom, and the rest a clumsy mess, tilting close to mental failure.

Explaining this to him gives me an acute headache, piercing my brain from right to left and the other way around. People shouldn't need to explain or justify their conditions to be understood. I'm afraid the world is not there—yet.

"Seriously, Sunset. And now with Dean and Lukah? Please, this is too much. Just wipe away all your feelings because it's gonna end badly. And you like flirted with both of them?" he raises his voice, anger kindling his tone.

"I...I- it's not like that!" I defend myself. "I didn't know they were different people! And you should've told me in the first place!"

Raiden clicks his tongue."Do you realize how fucked up this situation could have become?"

I take that as a rhetorical question and let him fume about it. He's not listening anyway while his words start piercing my soul.

You always repeat the same story. You need to grow up.

"Imagine if you would have slept with one of them or both of them!" His fingers hold the bridge of his nose. "They will be hating each other and I would've lost my friends and you'd be heartbroken."

"Let me repeat this again," I emphasize the last word with a gesture of my hand, "I did not sleep with any of them. In fact, I didn't sleep with all of your friends—not even with Jason. And as for Lukah and Dean, I was avoiding them. That's why I brought Hardin tonight, and I didn't sleep with him either in case you want to drag him into this conversation as well..." I trail off, out of breath.

"Well, but you have something with them. You think I'm blind? I saw you at the bonfire with them. You can't interfere with brothers like that, Sunset," Raiden claims as he folds his arms.

"I didn't know I was interfering. They came to me! I was with Hardin! Why would you assume I was hunting them and not the other way around?" I shoot. Why can't he see that this time I was different?

"Because it's always like that! You just can't let me be. You need to screw every guy I know!" he exclaims.

"I did not screw every guy you knew, and stop being so dramatic. We just talked!" Anger courses wildly through my brain as I think that my brother knows me so little. I'm starting to think he suffers from a condition as well—he cannot be this blind. Or maybe he's right.

You always repeat the same story. You need to grow up. You have ruined all of his friendships.

The driver clears his throat bringing our attention to him, but he doesn't say anything.

"Jason from the soccer team, Leo from the book club, Taylor from the swimming team? Should I go on? All of them unfollowed me on every social network I own. I wouldn't blame Dean and Lukah for doing the same."

You always repeat the same story. You need to grow up. You have ruined all of his friendships.

"That was practically all of our high school years. I promise this time, it wasn't like that." Then I scoff, poking his arm. "And you're blaming me? As if you hadn't dated any of my friends! Remember Jessica?" I point out, proudly.

"Oh, well. I had it easier because you don't even have friends, and I cannot fucking date Elizabeth Bennet, can I?" he complains.

I gasp, offended because he is insulting a fictional yet real friend of mine.

"You're an asshole," I blurt out. "And I do have friends!" I add.

"Name one."

I grimace.

Does Peeta count?

"Um- I, I... Ca...Camille's a friend of mine," I lie.

I always repeat the same story.

"The naked girl Dean was digging on the sofa? Right, great company to keep."

I need to grow up.

"Fuck off," I cuss as I fold my own arms. He is right. I don't have friends.

I have ruined all of his friendships. And I don't have friends of my own.

"Look." He slides closer to me, his hand resting on the back seat behind me. "Let's put this behind us. Sunset, look at me." He grabs my knee.

You always repeat the same story. You need to grow up. You have ruined all of his friendships. You don't have friends.

I stubbornly keep my forehead attached to the window, ignoring his request.

"This goes beyond Lukah, Dean, and even myself," he declares.

My eyes are sore as more tears keep coming. The walls of my throat shrink when I try to fight them back. I just need someone to understand how I feel.

"You need to rise above what happened with mom and even with Jason and every other guy from that school. You need to start attending university. You need to stop burning things every time someone does something that upsets you. You need to stop letting that car accident define your life," he whispers.

I can't breathe. He doesn't get it.

You always repeat the same story. You need to grow up. You have ruined all of his friendships.

"You don't understand," I rasp. He was not in the accident. He doesn't have those images in his mind. "I'm damaged." I was damaged long ago, but after that, I think the damage is just permanent.

"I know, Sun. But you're my sister and you need to get over yourself. I want to help you. You can do this. You can fight this anxiety shit. I want to help you but you need to find the will to change," he preaches.

Would you tell a lung cancer patient to get over himself? Would you tell a sick person to find the will to change?

Jesus.

"I can do this." I snort with a questioning intonation. He fails to see my point. My mind is damaged. My shrink told me, I know it. I woke up in a car surrounded by fire, my dead mom next to me. The blood, the flesh, the smell of burnt flesh—that's not something that you simply delete from your mind.

How can one unsee what one has already seen?

I was born with an anxiety condition—an extreme fear of future events especially the ones connected with people. The accident just heightened it all to this point. I don't think I have damaged my mind on purpose. I don't think my anxiety is something I chose or something that can go away with just some drugs and therapy.

It's embedded in my DNA, in the images that I cannot erase from my mind. It's rooted in the core of my being, squeezing me, suffocating my everyday life.

I always repeat the same story. I need to grow up. I have ruined all of his friendships. I have to get over myself. I can do this.

But maybe he does have a point and I need to try harder.

"The only thing that I understand is that this will ruin you if you don't do something about it," he declares.

I nod my head in agreement although I believe I am already ruined.

"Let's make a deal," Raiden starts, "let's go to university together. I walk you to your every class," he places his hand on my shoulder.

"I... It's not kindergarten. I don't need you to do that for me. And your presence won't change how anxious I feel inside that building," I explain.

"Sun, you have social anxiety. It's okay to not be okay about facing those environments. Together, we can try."

I smile. That's kind—finally.

"I'll think about it."

Our building hall appears through my window.

"We are here," I state as the car comes to a stop.

Raiden starts opening his wallet to pay the driver.

"Hey, thank you for the ride," he addresses him as we start getting out of the car.

Joining me in the elevator, Raiden stands next to me—our backs pressed against the steel-made wall.

Once inside the house, I storm into my room. I need to cry.

"Sunset! Wait!" Raiden calls, but his words are cut by my sliding the door shut. I didn't mean to be angry at him. I just need to be alone.

My body collapses, face-forward, on my bed. My pillow is the only comfort I receive as I cry my heart out.

I cry because he doesn't get my anxiety condition and he'll never do.

I cry because he believes I am that easy I have screwed every friend of his.

I cry because I don't have my mum to tell her all about this.

I cry because I will never have a thing with Lukah after what Raiden told me.

I cry because there is nothing that can heal my damaged soul.

I just cry.