In the Month of May

I can't sleep.
There are so many thoughts spinning through my mind, thoughts that I never believed I was capable of thinking. These revolving thoughts keep my eyes open, scanning and searching, flickering from shadow to shadow like a candle blanketed by the darkness of my vacant room.
These thoughts are unmentionable. They are memories I never knew I had retained. They are the thoughts that used to settle like dust in the back of my mind, drifting harmless and aimless. But now, these late nights have stirred them around, lifted and spun by the spontaneous breeze of forced creativity and insomnia.
I want to write them down, I need to write them down. I need to write them down if only to get them out of my head and onto the yearning blank pages but the pencil never stops. It goes and goes and goes, never finished, never empty as my mind brings forward thought after thought, memory after memory, in a continuous and bloody cycle. These thoughts leave me drained, shaking. My muscles go limp, and my eyes close only by the force of exhaustion and the burning sting that comes with it. My mind still races, never stopping, never ending.
It's three in the morning and my thoughts turn over to you. My eyes are closed, my face pressed against the cool fabric of the pillow. If I could just smother myself, then maybe, just maybe, these thoughts might stop. If only my mind would rest.
It's three in the morning and I'm thinking of you, with my eyes shut tight and my hands aginst my chest. I think of all the things said but never done and all the moments lost missing you while you were standing right in front of me, your hands in mine, if only in anticipation of the time you would have to walk away. I would stare after you, knowing that words exchanged through telephone lines just a few moments after we leave each other would never make up for being with you.
I think of you at three in the morning, and my heart swells, and my eyes sting, and I don't know whether to feel lonely or desperate.
I turn over to my other side and open my eyes. The clock has turned to four. I lay and wait. I wait for these thoughts to finish, for you to magically show yourself beside me. I wait for my mind to wear itself out and collapse, closing my eyes in the process. I wait in vain.
At 4:35 I close my eyes, trying to block the pressing shadows from view, but I can feel my eyes roll back into my head, moving and shuddering in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of these stranger thoughts.
I squeeze my eyes shut then open them.
Open, then shut.
Open, then shut.
Sleep is beyond my fragile and weakened frame's reach, and I give up, lying there awake, thinking of you and the delicate memories encircling my tired mind. I lay there and let all these thoughts and hours pass by, waiting for my eyes to close on their own and my mind to stop it's rhythmic beat of thinking.

I wake up without a memory of closing my eyes. I lay in bed, staring at the now open door, the figures walking past it, with only barely noticeable glances in my direction. They are smiling, laughing, they know what day it is, and cannot wait to remind me in case my mind has let the surprise of age slip.
I keep my eyes trained on the ceiling, floor, walls, in an attempt to focus on blankness hoping that it will translate over to my mind for just this one day.
It is my birthday after all, I should at least get that.

I walk around, surrounded by people, all talking and smiling and laughing. I put on a smile for them, and weed my way through the crowd. I have known each one of these people for two years in the least, and yet I feel so unknown.
They are all so empty, so vapid. They care about nothing but things that won't matter once our days of high school are over. All these nights spent worrying about loves that end up never lasting and the clothes that would get them the most noticed, they mean nothing to anyone else except their empty selves and the other empty shells walking beside them.
I sit, surrounded by all of these people I call my friends. They all span years, and faces change drastically with each turn around the circle. They gather round me, round the old wooden table I've had since childhood. My parents and other family are behind me, the closest. The few friends I've known the longest and have been there the most are next to them, family in their own right. The others crowd around, just wanting to get a chance to see this moment they will all probably forget in the next few months, but one I will always remember.
I search through the faces and my racing mind. It never rests, even when I am meant to be truly happy. I search for you, anyone who may resemble you. Your brother was supposed to be here, and so were you, yet neither of your faces grace those of the others. I turn around and stare past the crowd at the door, just willing you to walk through.
I would have been there for you.

The sixteen candles are set in front of me, nestled among a cake made by my friends, all putting in their own special touch. I see yours, a single candle, silver and sparkling in the shape of a music note. That was our one thing we could both turn to, besides each other, wasn't it? I stare in memory at that candle. The never ending thoughts and singing of the people around me are silenced by our own memories. I look around and smile, close my eyes when their mouths stop moving and their hands are brought together. I take a breath, breathing in every thought and memory and moment. Our hands entertwined, our lips pressed together. Every moment spent with you, every moment spent missing you. I inhale all of the love and friendship and family surrounding me. I breathe it all in deep.
I clench my fists under the table, and exhale everything inside me.

"Make a wish," the smiling voice from above tells me.
I make my wish, exhaling every ounce of hate and every racing thought. Every withering memory and every fragile state of mind all come out in a breath, taking all its strength to silence the flickering of the candles, your candle, in front of me.

I wished to be empty, thoughtless, capable of sleep like everyone surrounding me with their permanent smiles and crinkled eyes.
I wished for you.