I finished Thirteen Reasons Why sometime around 3:00 A.M. It got to me, and I’m not even sure I can articulate why that is. Maybe it was the pain and loneliness the main character describes, because I’ve been in that spot. She says how it is not that longing for love or belonging… but that it runs much deeper. Emptiness.
I called it a black hole. It was almost as though you were so sad that you could feel the light being sucked into it. But, at the same time, you’re not sad. Being sad requires some sort of feeling… and you can’t even manage to get that far. The space around you is so distorted that you can’t feel sad, much less any real emotion.
It’s why you can’t get out of bed… because the black hole sucks so much out of you that even the energy it takes to get up is gone.
So, sometimes, you fake it. I became a really good actor… and a liar. The fantasies gave me a delusion that I was fine, that I didn’t have to deal with the fact that my star collapsed and the gravity was so strong that I wasn’t sure I could survive it. At moments, I even believed my own stories… but maybe that was because I wanted to believe them.
I still lie to myself. I tell myself I stopped caring about him… when I know, deep down, I didn’t. I can’t… and it makes me so fucking mad at myself.
“You know better, Kelsey. You’ve fallen down that fucking rabbit hole twice and neither time ended well.”
Feelings. He gave me back feelings. I was more than a black hole; I was a galaxy.
You shouldn’t rely on someone else to make you feel that. I know this, and I’m pretty sure my entire life is now revolving on figuring out how to be more than that black hole.
I guess I can sort of articulate some of the feelings.