Thoughts had been creeping into her mind lately. Nothing she wasn’t used to fending off; the inevitability of death, the failure of the human race to get its shit together and make sure there was something left of the planet for the future. The feeling like every problem she could see in the world was somehow her responsibility, because too many people were willing to give up when things felt impossible. She liked to think she wouldn’t. Or at least, would try her best.
Yet here she sat, ruminating on problems with no solutions. There were a collection of mantras in her mind she used to fight off these kinds of thoughts.
I didn’t exist before I was born, and that doesn’t seem to bother me much.
I’m fine with other altered states of being and consciousness. Why should death be any different?
My real concern is how to live, not how to die.
Smarter people than me are spending more of their lives than I am trying to save us all. I can only do my best.
It’s better to go down fighting than to give up.
Fuck, why did this have to be so hard? Why couldn’t she just spend quiet time alone like she used to? There were a few good years as a kid where none of this stuff seemed to bother her. She almost never thought of it, or she possessed enough magical thinking to be optimistic about the nature of reality. No amount of psychedelics was going to convince her that reality was fungible and intangible, as much as she wanted it to be. Erika envied the religious, because it seemed like they at least had some way of putting this terrible part of their minds at ease.
No they don’t. Look how they act.
It was easy enough throughout the day to shut her brain off and just enjoy the trip, but now that she had time to think her brain wanted to latch onto anything that seemed to be a problem. That was how anxiety worked, after all – the effect came first, and found itself a cause. If there was nothing, she’d get existential. If there was something, she’d rant to a classmate about how Washington D.C. was a microcosm of everything that was wrong with their country.
Goddamnit, let’s take like fifty percent off. Dial it back. Can I do that? Is that even possible?
She sighed, and untied her bandana, shaking her hair out and re-tying it. A little reset. That was another thing she’d learned about anxiety – it was never one big, complicated sequence of actions and thoughts that brought her back to ground level. It was simple things, like taking a walk up to the roof and taking a minute to breathe. To just unload every stress while staring at the sky and hope it floated out and away from her.
Then she could think about what was going right. The things that felt okay, that she’d embrace despite the darkness in her mind that kept reminding her it was all only temporary.
People loved her. She had friends. Her parents never gave up on her. It was hard to remember being anyone but herself, now.
Someone had fallen in love with her. For all his faults, she loved him back. Neither of them ever thought that would happen, for different reasons. Despite each of them finding dark places in each other, she still believed in him and he still believed in her.
”I’m just like him, aren’t I? What the hell is wrong with me? It’s not punishment, or justice, or revenge. It’s just cruel.”
He didn’t have to be. She knew that better than anyone.
”How can you even think about our future? The whole world is falling apart. Nothing feels real anymore. What is there to hope for?”
There was always a way out, no matter how bad things got. It was always worth fighting back. He knew that better than anyone.
She pulled her cardigan close to her body, and looked out on the city. She smiled a bit at the thought of the Potomac rising and swallowing the whole thing. Faintly, she heard the sound of the door to the stairwell opening and a set of slow footsteps.
Turning to the source of the sound, she was confronted with a face she knew – though she couldn’t say it felt exactly familiar. To say they ran in different social circles was something of an understatement. Catching his eye, she offered a wave half-covered by the sleeve of her cardigan.
“Hey there, Lorenzen.”