I live my life in a cloud. I can see and hear and feel everything around me, but as if from distance. It’s like I am standing on a hill looking through a thin fog. I watch myself experience everything. I smile and laugh, and frown, and cry, and hurt, and get mad. But none of it feels real. Like it is all just a weird dream. I see everything around me. But I also don’t. It’s as if there is a screen door between me and the rest of the world, but there is no way for me to open it and get to the other side. At parties or hanging out with my friend, it’s as if nothing I see is truly there. I hug my loved ones and can’t feel their touch properly. I know it’s there. I know they’re there. And I know I am there. But I don’t really feel it. The only times I really feel human are when it seems as if my whole world is crashing down on me. I sit and can’t help but sob uncontrollably, losing any sense of hope and life. Then I can feel. But then I don’t want to. Then I just want to go back. Then I want to continue living in my cloud. Because if all I feel is pain, I don’t think I want to feel at all.

She's moving again. Her black hair falling out of her bun in tight curls, sticking to her sweaty face. Her brows crunched in concentration as she walks down the stairs, large box in hand, craning her neck to see around it.

She's moving again, running away from her problems once more. I feel her fear. Feel the pain in her muscles as she struggles to move fast. Praying to get out before anyone notices. I watch as she crams the final box into the back of her red Mazda. She looks around and racing back up the stairs one final time. Taking one last look around her old crappy apartment, she leans down and grabs a carrier, she speaking softly to the creature inside. "It's okay love. It's time to go." Her cat meows back in frustration at being locked up. "I know, but we have to leave now." Closing the door behind her she locks it and speeds back to her car. Throwing herself and the carrier inside. Opening the small wire door, she soothes, "There now, you can come out now." The cat just looks at her as she starts the car, and pulls out onto the road.

Driving with no real destination in mind was always soothing to her. "Okay, Luna. One for east, two for west." Luna was quiet for a moment then chirped two short meows. Relaxing into the seat, she nodded, "West it is then."

My heartbeat slows alongside hers as she pulls onto the freeway, the town quickly falling far into the distance. I frowned. She just came from the West. She hated it there. I hated it there. The humidity in the summer, the blizzards in the winter. It was too inconsistent for her liking. But I didn't open my mouth to speak.

I had long given up trying to tell her what to do. Not because I didn't care, but because she'd never hear me. I used to try. I would scream until my voice gave out, but she never knew. I was stuck. watching as she lived her life, with no way of giving he help or advice.

I was stuck here. beind this mirror that followed her every movement. And she had no idea. No idea that I saw whatever she saw. Felt whatever she felt. Loved and hated whatever she loved and hated. I was her after all. I was her, but not her. I was just a witness to her life, living it alongside her, stuck in the shadows with no say in what happened to our bodies. I looked around me. My "home" (if you could even call it that) consisted of a bed, and a chair, surrounded by neverending black. The Void, is what I called it. I tried once to walk out there, but I didn't last long before the pure emptiness of it all overwhelmed me so completely I had to turn back. And when I finally made it, I found it had been days that passed for her, when I had been sure I was only gone an hour. And something had happened to her. She wasn't whole. It was almost as if when I had left her, I took her soul with me.

So I stayed, and watched, and waited. Giving into what I was sure was my damnation. Stuck.

Alone.

Forever forced to watch as she destroyed herself. Taking me down with her in the process.

I had no way of controlling her. Witnessing as she made one self-destructive decision after another, pulling us farther into the pit of nothingness that threatened to consume us. Some days it was too much. And on those days I would lay in bed, refusing to watch as she ruined herself...me...us.

I leaned against the hard wood backing of my chair, feeling nothing but the worn leather of her seat as she drove, fast, and with no real direction in mind.

I felt the coolness against my cheeks before the sadness even registered. She was crying softly. sniffling against the tears. I turned away. I hated seeing her like this. Not being able to offer anything but silent, unrecognized love and support. Knowing it made no real difference, I stood. Laying my hand against the cool glass of the one-way window, I spoke "I'm here. You are not alone. You are loved." My whispers barely sounding, my breath fogging up the scene. She wiped her tears, not reacting to my words, and cleared her throat. She reached out a hand and turned on the music, landing on a soft indie station. Jerking her head in ine sharp nod of resolve she took a breath, "I'm fine." She spoke to her cat. "We will be fine."

Cranking up the volume she began to sing quietly along with the music.

I turned from the image. Crawling into my bed, listening to her broken, lilting voice. Wiping the tears from my face, I couldn't help but wish that one day, I might reach through that window, and do the same for her.

It smells like Chinese food in here. I swallowed hard, suppressing a gag as revulsion swept through me. My head was pounding against the bright fluorescent lights as I looked around the room. My back ached and I readjusted myself in the seat for the fourth time in ten minutes. This place was decorated in a way that tried so damn hard to be welcoming, that it felt like a trap. Everything just a little too clean, a little too cheery. The bookshelves lining the walls shining with canary yellow paint. The doilies on the arm chairs and tables stark white. Not a speck of dust visible. The name on the other side of the door visible through the glass. “Edna White; Life Coach”.

Edna opposite of me cleared her throat softly, pulling my attention back to her. She was so young. Her skin soft and clear, eyes wide and doll-like, not a wrinkle or blemish in sight. She was barely 26. Just five years older than me. Five years. And yet she had her life together better than any 40-year-old I’ve ever met. She was watching me expectantly as she cleared her throat again and spoke, “So what made you decide to finlly come see me?”

I blinked slowly.. trying to focus in on the person in front of me. My mind fighting to flee in every other direction. Every thought floating in and out of my subconscious faster than I could register what they were even about. After another minute I gave up on trying to recall what she wanted. “Sorry?” I blushed slightly in embarrassment, at the crack in my voice.

Her answering smile was patient and kind. The worst kind of smile, if you ask me. I was never able to tell if the person was being genuine or not. “I asked why you changed your mind, and finally came to see me. Last time I approached you, you seemed adamant about not wanting help.”

“It’s not that I don’t want help,” The words felt like sandpaper against my dry throat. “I just don’t need any. I know where I stand with myself, and in this life that was forced upon me.”

She watched me, eyes softening slightly, “Well, I have to say, I was rather surprised when you called yesterday. And if that’s how you still feel, then I can’t help but wonder as to your reason for deciding to be here now?”

I inhaled shakily. “I’m not here for me.” Leaving it at that.

Edna studied me for a beat, then thankfully didn’t push for more. She just watched me expectantly, lips pursed, waiting for me to elaborate. I shifted uncomfortably. “I just needed to understand.”

She leaned forward slightly. “Understand what, exactly?”

I tore my eyes away from her unyielding gaze. “How people are able to dream.”

Edna settled back into her chair, the old frame groaning slightly with the movement.

“I just -” My heart started to beat erratically in my chest. The fear of finally voicing my truth out loud, stealing any feeling of calm I might have had. Steeling myself, I tried again, albeit a little wobbly, to explain myself. “You know how most people like to plan out their futures?” Edna nodded slowly. Of course, she knew. She was a life coach. It’s her job to help people plan out a life for themselves. “Some focus only on the small futures, but most revel in imagining the life they will lead in 5, 10, 15 years in the future.”

I crossed and uncrossed my legs, staring down at my hands, eyes unfocused as I tried desperately to find the words to describe the thoughts that have plagued my mind since I was a child. “They picture how they will appear growing old alongside their friends, their families. They romanticize the idea of aging alongside someone they love; their gnarled wrinkled hands holding onto each other, as they sit side by side on their wrap-around porch, rocking chairs swaying forward and back, sipping lemonade as each day passes them by. Perfectly content in their complacency.”

I sniffled slightly, “I-I can’t do that.. imagine myself in the future. Dream of a future for myself. I don’t know how.”

My headache was thundering now as I held back my tears. “I can’t see myself in 5, 10, 15 years. I look to the future and see nothing. I can’t envision myself growing old. Creating a life for myself. Not when I know it will inevitably be taken away from me anyways. Be it when I'm old and decrepit, or young and healthy. The idea that any happiness I may build for myself only to lose it to something as uncontrollable as life isn’t something I think is worth it.”

My hands tightened and loosened around each other. Asif I could wring out my anxiety through my hands. “I don’t want to progress through life, thinking of how little time I may have left to accomplish all that I may want to do. I don’t want to succeed in acquiring that dream, just to later lose it. I don’t want to move forward, then fall. To search for the reason of living only to die moments before I find my purpose. I don’t want to go through the hell that is existing for the unattainable future, just to wither away not having reached it.”

I started to speak faster, feeling a dam break inside of me at the ability to finally speak my inner-most thoughts. “Because that’s what we do. We wither. Slowly at first, then all at once.”

I tucked my limbs in close, the panic at what my future may hold. “I can’t see myself graduating college, or falling in love, or starting a career, or my own family. I can’t picture any of it.”

“Hell,” I loosed a small broken laugh, “I can’t even picture me in a month from now. I don't even know how to try. I don’t want a life in which I look only forward in naïve hopefulness; to whatever life may bring me. The universe is too uncontrollable for me to assume there is any true hope for my future.”

I took a final steadying breath. “So, instead of looking forward, I've always focused on the present.” Glancing up, I saw Edna leaning forward now, elbows resting on her knees, index fingers pressed against pursed lips. “Day by day. Minute by minute. Second by second.” My eye pulled from her again. “The wonderful thing about the present, is that it’s ever changing. Every time a heartbeat passes, you have entered a new present. And the one you once knew is now the past.”

I straightened my back; bracing my hand against my stomach as I tried to reign myself back in, “'I don’t want to wither. I will not wither. I will focus on the now, and instead forever bloom.’ Those were the words that have kept me going for so long. Because, I refuse to depend on the future to provide me my happiness. I lived by thinking that I would force life’s hand and create my own happiness myself. But not later. Now. Right now, in this very moment, I would create my own happiness. Because now is the only time I will ever have this present at my disposal. So why waste it. That has always been my truth.”

Edna waited a few moments after I finished, weighing my words carefully; assessing the thoughts I provided her with. A few minutes later, she spoke. “If that is what you truly believe, then what compelled you to come here and search for someone else’s truth?”

I looked down to my shoes, watching as they pressed further and further into the carpet below. “Because my life is no longer for me. It’s for someone else. Because I have to learn to plan for the future. Have to learn how to be okay with planning for what may or may not come. Because, my life is no longer about me and what I am comfortable with, and I can’t stand the thought of someone else living this way, experiencing the crushing weight of the fear I have been forced to block out in my own mind regarding the endless, overwhelming, heart-breaking possibilities of the future.”

My hand tightened against my stomach, “Because I am no longer able to avoid my own future.”

Sniffing one final time, I lifted my chin fully, locking eyes with Edna.

“I’m pregnant.”

-THE END-

I am loved.

They despise me.

I am wanted.

They think I'm a waste of space.

These are my friends.

I have no one.

I am beautiful.

I'm disgusting.

They value my opinion.

I'm so stupid.

I am good at my job.

I should be fired.

I am a caring person.

I'm selfish.

I am dedicated.

I'm lazy.

I deserve to be loved.

I deserve nothing.

If I ruled the world, I would be the God that we were promised. I would be the loving, all powerful God, that steps in and helps better the world for those who live in it.

I would pull those from the grasps of poverty, and drag those from the edge of depression.

If I ruled the world, no matter how bad someones life may be, I would be the reason they would think to themselves, "Well, at least I have their love and support."

No one would feel alone again.

And as a result, no one would be hurt and lash out to others around them.

If I ruled the world, everyone would be kinder to one another, because they wouldn't feel dismissed and shut down. There would be no spite, and no hatred, and no jealousy.

If I ruled the world, I would be the God equivalent of Ellen DeGeneres.