“I am glad you are here” I can’t come up with more to say. Which means that she doesn’t either. “This will take some time to get used to won’t it?” “my thoughts exactly”. I try and say everything aloud. I might seem like a crazy person, talking to nobody but everything that helps to make her seem more real is worth it. Thinking about it, I am a crazy person.

“There are going to be changes. You wanted a sign, you got a sign. Now it is your turn to live.” Without another word I get up and leave the bedroom on my way to the shower. Only one letter is left on the dresser. I will take care of that today. There is a lot to do and it’s not going to be easy.

The heat of the water might be unpleasant for some people but for me a shower is like a morning coffee. It is a place of peace but it also wakes me up and from time to time when I get used to the temperature I try to find that edge again. The place where it is slightly too warm, so warm that you are aware for the entire time.

So, what’s the plan today? I am hungry so getting something to give me the necessary strength to get through the day. I am not sure I would make it to the super market around the corner so I might as well order some food. After that? How exactly does one get his life in order? What makes up a good life? Sport. To have your life in order you must be fit, good-looking. Also, a girlfriend, a real one ideally. A tidy home? A job? A hobby? I definitely need a hobby. So many things to do and so little energy. I let my fingers run through my hair allowing the water to reach even the streaks that are further down. As the water runs through my hair I experience a feeling of bliss. Like scratching an itch that has been haunting your head for hours. There is a long day ahead of me. Probably more than that if I manage to pull through, but for now I am just going to enjoy the shower and the light shimmer of hope that has a lot of guiding to do.

Climbing out of the shower my view falls on the mirror. Well it’s more of an ex-mirror. One an especially bad day I couldn’t bare the reflection and without another thought, shattered it. There was so much energy in me back then. I have a look at my right hand and look for the cuts. They have completely healed which means that was quite some time ago. “If mirrors are the gate to our souls it’s fitting that mine is broken” “A distorted image of myself that I have created myself” I try to get some deeper meaning out of a situation as I often do. It makes me feel like a character of a movie or TV show but in this case, nothing really struck me. There was no resonance it doesn’t hit any spots. It’s just empty words that are meant to be deep but are not. The mirror is broken because I punched it, that is all there is to it.

I should replace it. I look at one of the shards and get a look at myself. Big nose, eyes are tired, almost half-closed. My brown hair is spreading from both sides of my neck in a way that no one could argue was intentional. Maybe the mirror has time until some self-love has settled in.

I walk to the couch as usual but this time with more determination. I have a goal. I will order food. Lieferando does that sort of thing. The first one is Lieferando with a little “ad” put on top and the second result leads me to exactly the same page. I check the URL and wonder who thought it would be necessary to show you ads for the thing you are already actively looking for. Not my problem. I choose the second link from the top clicking on ads, regardless of context, always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It asks me to type in my address and I obey. I am overwhelmed by the choices and decide to get a kebab. It is somewhat green and has meat in it which should give me energy necessary. I proceed to order and look at the “special requests” field. I don’t want people to look at me yet. Alex appears on the couch next to me “it’s all right. We’re gonna get there. Just type in ‘please ring and leave it at the door step’. You pay in advance anyway” As I begin to type I get doubts. What if people used that kind of strategy to claim their food hasn’t arrived? Is there a policy so they are protected? They should be able to argue that it is not their fault and they only followed commands. But what if not? What if the deliverer thought about the same thing but didn’t get to the same conclusion. The whole scenario might make him uncomfortable. “You are overthinking this” the calm voice came from my left. I looked at the already familiar face which seems to have calming properties. Fuck it I will face him. As soon as the box is cleared another voice appears. One far more familiar. “You can’t even look at yourself in the mirror yet expect some poor delivery boy to do it? You look like sloth from seven and the looks aren’t even the most striking similarity. Who do you think you are doing a favour?” I almost expect Alex to say something but she stays silent. This does not appear to be a devil-vs-angel scenario. If it is the devil just won, so I enter the text again and send. As my thoughts ramble in anxious circles I realize that I came to the same conclusion I started with but feel a lot more guilt now.

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I let my phone fall on my chest and close my eyes to kill time until the delivery arrives but Alex is not having it. “We have to cut down on the naps. They take up so much time and time is important now.” The firm way she said it caught me off guard and I see myself already falling for the old “I’m useless, nothing I can do about it”-routine. “I care for you” my train of thought is immediately interrupted. She’s right. I’m right. Time to answer a message.

This one has been on my phone for a while and is from my friend. At least he was my friend, I left his message on read for some times now so I’m not sure how that works. Regardless, he deserves an answer.

Jo, are you alright? Let’s catch up! Simple enough. I’m doing good! Sure, let’s catch up sometime. “You are lying.” By now I know where the voice comes from and I throw a pleading look at her. The disappointment in her voice finds no resemblance in her face, it’s more like a cocktail of pity, sadness and love. The view not unfamiliar to me. So many people who should hate me, but don’t. So, I need to hate myself for them. “Why?” It is difficult to spiral when someone well-meaning can read your thoughts. A smile. I don’t deserve pity. I don’t deserve sadness. “Why don’t we let other people decide who they hate and who they like? There is no loss in less hatred. Emotions don’t have a threshold that must be filled. You don’t need to compensate for anyone else”

I hate when that happens. So many things are being questioned so I focus back on my phone. Hey, not doing too good I’m afraid :/ Will get back to you on the meeting the faceless voice was having none of it “Oh boo hoo! Not doing to good? What do you want him to do?” I go through the possibilities

More messages, questions, maybe he can help? “How would he do that. Just show up and do everything for you? How would you describe your situation? In case you forgot, you are bloody mental” I don’t think I can count on Alex’ assistance here.

A visit is also out of the questions. I am in no condition for visitors.

How about Not too good but I don’t really want to talk about it, it’s hard to explain ^^ Meeting might be difficult but I will get back to you on it! “Oh, you don’t want to talk about it? You know what you sound like? You sound like a brat who is trying to get attention. Trying to get them to ask and then hit them with the ‘I don’t want to talk about it’. If you don’t want to talk about it why don’t you just not respond? That way there is no problem.” The voice never gets loud nor angry. It’s just cold and calculated, reminding you of every doubt you ever had. Hitting me where it hurts the most and once you show vulnerability it won’t let go.

Maybe just I will get back to you? “You have the blue ticks on, genius. He knows you read it. Way to go. What would it help you? Are you so desperate for attention that you are willing to waste someone else’s time just so you can respond with ‘I don’t want to talk about it?’ You know who you remind me of? Jenny. Your crush in 7th grade, who lead you on for months, acted like she was hurt, like her life was so hard. Until we found out it was all lies. She used you, wasted your time so she can have those little kicks.” Another hit. I tried to help her for so long, trying to get her trust so I can help her. He is right. No response is probably best for everyone. I never want to be that kind of person. It is almost a relieve to be able to cross “answering texts” off the list. I will get back to you might not be in a green textbox for Micheal to see, but it was a promise nevertheless.