Lee ended up going on his date.

I'd been very persistent, telling him over and over that I was fine and he needed to go out and have fun so he could get a sex life and stop moping around the house. He was in college, for god's sake. That had shut him up, and he'd left after flipping me off a few dozen times.

Lee going on his date also meant I was left alone with my thoughts once again. This time, though, I distracted myself with music, doing my best to focus in on the lyrics and what they meant instead of letting my mind wander. I hit the shuffle button, putting in my earbuds and turning up the volume, letting myself feel the rhythm.

Well, this is what it look like. Mac Miler—or in my mind, modern day Jesus—always had a way with words.

Right before you fall. Sometimes it felt like my entire life, all seventeen years, had been leading up to this. This feeling of nothingness, the anticlimactic present day I seemed to be trapped in. Was I falling? If I was, I wasn't sure how much deeper I could fall before I hit the ground. If I wasn't already there, rock bottom wasn't too far away.

Stumblin' around, you been guessing your direction. I was stumbling through life, desperately trying to get out of the stage I was stuck in. Reaching for the door that would take me away, lead me to the next chapter. To college, to new beginnings. It seemed so far away, I had no idea how to get there. I was wandering blind.

Next step, you can't see at all. There was no next step. Life was anything but ordinary right now. Maybe if I had been younger I would be in awe, living in a moment of history. The greatest pandemic since the Spanish flu. The worst economic crisis the U.S. had faced since the Great Depression. I wanted out, I wanted to be free of this stupid, life-halting, life-ruining, life-ending virus.

And I don't have a name, I don't have a name, no. I wanted so desperately to be someone else. To not be me, even for just a second. I had to believe that other peoples' lives were better than this, that the future held something to look forward to. I didn't have to be me, maybe I could be someone like Ria. Someone better than me. Anyone was better than me.

Who am I to blame? There was no one to blame except myself. It was all in my head, spreading throughout me, consuming my thoughts and consuming me. Eating me up from the inside. I was so alone.

Who am I to blame though? I couldn't do this anymore. I'd thought I loved privacy, yearned for it. Being alone meant I could just be myself with no fear of judgement. But after months and months of solitude, I'd had enough isolation for a lifetime. Or at least for a little while. I'd never admit it, but I craved social interaction. I missed people.

And I cannot be change, I cannot be changed, no. When I was younger, my mom would tell Lee and me that we were handcrafted by God. That they had made us just the way we were supposed to be, and we shouldn't feel the need to change. We were already perfect, we just didn't see it yet. We would go on to do great things, make everyone proud. I didn't believe it for a second. If God was real, and they'd handmade me, they'd definitely been drunk or half asleep. There were so many imperfections, so many flaws to obsess over, both physically and mentally.

Trust me I've tried. I had tried. I'd done things I was ashamed of, tried talking to people, tried bottling what I felt and hoping it would just go away.

I just end up right at the start of the line. Of course it never worked. It was an endless cycle. As soon as the horizon was in sight, as soon as I could see my way out, it was gone. The sun set on another day, and it all started over again.

Drawing circles. Day after day after day after day.

Well, I drink my whiskey, and you sip your wine. I knew other people used drugs or alcohol as their escape. Frankie certainly did, though none of us ever said anything to her about it. We all knew not to intrude. She told us what she wanted us to know, and she held herself together. Frankie was strong, the strongest of us. We all respected her too much to intervene in what we all knew was a shitty coping mechanism. Or maybe it wasn't respect. Maybe it was just fear that if we talked about it, brought it up, everything would fall apart.

We're doing well, sitting, watching the world falling down, its decline. It certainly seemed like the world was ending. Pandemic and all. At every turn was a new problem, some new obstacle for me and the rest of the world to face. Hell, sometimes it felt like it was me against the rest of the world. The entire population must have done something really bad in our past lives to deserve all of this.

And I can keep you safe, I can keep you safe. Who would keep me safe? Lee was doing his best to keep me from going insane, trapped in the house. But soon enough he'd be back off to college, and I'd be stuck at home, totally and utterly alone. There was no way mom would let me go back to school, if it even reopened. I'd be online for my senior year. A year to remember. A year I'd undoubtedly want to forget.

Do not be afraid, do not be afraid. I wanted so badly to not be afraid, to go back to a time in my life where I was carefree. When I didn't feel the stress of responsibility, the pressure to succeed. I wanted to feel safe. I remembered when things had been easier. Even when I'd been with Connor, when things had seemed to be at their worst. At least he'd made me feel safe. Happy. He'd managed to distract me for some time, make my problems go away, help me to step back from real life for a second and make my own reality.

You're feeling sorry, I'm feeling fine. Connor was fine now. It had taken time, but he'd gotten over it. I, on the other hand, had never truly moved on. It was ironic, considering I was the one who had ended things between us. It had all become too much, and some part of me had known that he was too good for me. He still was too good for me. I didn't deserve him, he was wasting his time with me. I needed to end it, be fair to him. That had been what I'd told myself. Of course it was all bullshit. I was a pussy, too scared to let myself live. I was too selfish, too self absorbed. I tied all of my problems to our relationship, the one good thing in my life, and I'd cast it all away, thinking it would somehow fix things. Naturally it only made it worse.

Don't you put any more stress on yourself, it's one day at a time. How was I supposed to move forward, to leave everything behind if every day felt the same. Not just because of the endless cycle I was stuck in, but because of quarantine. There was nothing exciting in life anymore. Nothing to look forward to. I'd watched every movie I'd ever wanted to see, binged or rewatched nearly every decent Netflix show.

It's gettin' pretty late, gettin' pretty late. I was so tired. Tired of everything. I just wanted it all to end, for life to resume, for things to start moving again. I was stuck in a time loop. It felt like years were flashing by before my very eyes, and I could do nothing but sit back and watch helplessly. And in a way I guess they were. My teenage years would soon be over, the years when I could get away with just about anything. And I was sitting in my room, locked in the house, withering away.

Yeah, and I find it goes around like the hands that keep counting the time. Once you get past the age of fifteen, you start to realize that life is going by faster and faster. By then you're already halfway to thirty, which is basically middle-aged. And middle-aged was basically ancient. Time stopped for no one. It seemed so ready to leave me behind, going by quicker than I could process.

Drawing circles. I was still here, sitting on my bed. Stuck in my circle of life. Lion King makes it sound so much more appealing.