116. [voice.]
I'm looking at the calendar right now. It's... August... twenty-second. Which means in fifty-six days, I will have been here for... two years.
[A short pause, and silence, as though she isn't even breathing.]
That's not a lot of time, right?
...I thought about it because I trying to remember what the world was like without Arthur. In case I have to live in that world again.
It's not that he's always been here. He came... around the same time as I did, so I don't really have any memories of Anatole before him, but I remember Anatole after him but before... him again. Because he left here, once, after nearly a year and while he was gone, then, I kept his room the way it was when he was here. And I couldn't stop talking about him for all six of the months he was missing. And he left at the same time that someone else I loved a great deal died... and I remember feeling like there's nothing in the whole world worse than losing people. And then I thought that Anatole is the cruelest place in any world, because you keep losing people over and over again. It even taints reunions. Because you might hope someone will come here, and think that things will be better if they show up... and then they're here and you're always worried that they'll go away.
I was thinking about that, back then. Kind of. Mostly I wasn't thinking. I remember that's when things started to get really grey.
Now I'm thinking about something else.
I'm thinking... about what it means to live in a world where death doesn't mean anything... sometimes. And then sometimes it does.
I think it makes everything grey. Because someone is gone, and it hurts. But you can't let yourself mourn, because if you mourn everyone who falls and then rises again, then you'll wear yourself down with mourning and reunions and pain and joy. ...but you can't let yourself be happy either. Because then it's like they don't matter, and they do. So you're quiet, and you're numb, and you're grey, and you're waiting to find out the answer. Whether you can smile again, or whether you can cry. And times goes by but you don't have an answer, because death... ends, sometimes, but not always at the same... rate. So when do you give up? Do you hope? For how long?
[...]
I don't know.
Arthur is one of my favorite people in the world. And he's gone and I feel empty.
I feel like there's a star missing. Like a corner of the world just disappeared.
And he has to come back. Because I have to hear him laugh again, and because there are people here who have died and come back two or three times and they're monsters, and he's a hero so he deserves a second chance, too.
But I don't know if that means anything. I used to believe that good things would always happen to good people, but I don't, now. So I don't know whether to hope. And I don't even know if hope is better or worse than giving up, because hope doesn't end and there's nothing worse than not knowing and never giving up. Except maybe not knowing and giving up.
...I don't have any answers. I'm don't know what to say. I'm sorry to babble so much.
[And then... disconnect.]
[A short pause, and silence, as though she isn't even breathing.]
That's not a lot of time, right?
...I thought about it because I trying to remember what the world was like without Arthur. In case I have to live in that world again.
It's not that he's always been here. He came... around the same time as I did, so I don't really have any memories of Anatole before him, but I remember Anatole after him but before... him again. Because he left here, once, after nearly a year and while he was gone, then, I kept his room the way it was when he was here. And I couldn't stop talking about him for all six of the months he was missing. And he left at the same time that someone else I loved a great deal died... and I remember feeling like there's nothing in the whole world worse than losing people. And then I thought that Anatole is the cruelest place in any world, because you keep losing people over and over again. It even taints reunions. Because you might hope someone will come here, and think that things will be better if they show up... and then they're here and you're always worried that they'll go away.
I was thinking about that, back then. Kind of. Mostly I wasn't thinking. I remember that's when things started to get really grey.
Now I'm thinking about something else.
I'm thinking... about what it means to live in a world where death doesn't mean anything... sometimes. And then sometimes it does.
I think it makes everything grey. Because someone is gone, and it hurts. But you can't let yourself mourn, because if you mourn everyone who falls and then rises again, then you'll wear yourself down with mourning and reunions and pain and joy. ...but you can't let yourself be happy either. Because then it's like they don't matter, and they do. So you're quiet, and you're numb, and you're grey, and you're waiting to find out the answer. Whether you can smile again, or whether you can cry. And times goes by but you don't have an answer, because death... ends, sometimes, but not always at the same... rate. So when do you give up? Do you hope? For how long?
[...]
I don't know.
Arthur is one of my favorite people in the world. And he's gone and I feel empty.
I feel like there's a star missing. Like a corner of the world just disappeared.
And he has to come back. Because I have to hear him laugh again, and because there are people here who have died and come back two or three times and they're monsters, and he's a hero so he deserves a second chance, too.
But I don't know if that means anything. I used to believe that good things would always happen to good people, but I don't, now. So I don't know whether to hope. And I don't even know if hope is better or worse than giving up, because hope doesn't end and there's nothing worse than not knowing and never giving up. Except maybe not knowing and giving up.
...I don't have any answers. I'm don't know what to say. I'm sorry to babble so much.
[And then... disconnect.]