Empty

How are you feeling? Link asked.

Empty. I had replied.

Empty?

Yeah, like there’s nothing holding me together.

That was the extent of our conversation as I had refused to say anything more. Link was always curious about my feelings; like I was some kind of alien he needed to study. I liked Link, he was a good person to be around, he made the emptiness just something in the background. It didn’t go away, just hid out for awhile. That’s the funny thing about depression, it’s always there. No matter how much medicine you take, no matter how many therapy sessions you attend, it always comes back. You think you’ve finally kicked it after having a few good weeks but that’s when it comes back full force, ramming you with its empty sadness. You don’t choose depression, it chooses you.

Link made these notes about me in a small fabric covered notebook. His pen practically ran across the page, trying to copy down everything I told him, though most of the time it was the same. Empty. I think depression is kind of different for everyone. Some people feel overwhelmingly sad, some in pain, some dead, but me, I felt empty. A shell of flesh and bone.

Link traced the vein in my wrist. “Do you ever think about it?” He asked, talking about suicide.

“Haven’t we all?” I pulled my hand back and placed it in my lap.

He nodded thoughtfully; he knew I didn’t really like answering his questions. But sometimes it was nice to have someone to talk to about it. “Have you ever cut?”

I shook my head. “We don’t all do that.” He made a note in that notebook and stuck the pen behind his ear.

“You said you feel empty?”

Sometimes Link sounded more like a middle aged therapist than and eighteen year old boy; with his calm tone and note taking and the statements that sounded more like questions. I often wondered if that was what he aspired to be. But we never talked about him, it was always about me. About my problems and my life.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

Despite my refusal, Link pushed the subject. His chocolate eyes filled with curiosity as they danced across my face, trying to read it. I gave in after a few moments, lacking the energy to argue for long. When you’re sad all the time, you lack the energy to do much other than sleep. I couldn’t stand to be around friends for very long either, it just tired me out.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I sighed. “There’s nothing. Just nothing. There’s this void inside me, emotions and shit aren’t there. I’m empty.”

This seemed to catch him by surprise though I’d already told him the same thing repeatedly. Maybe this time it finally sunk in. “Interesting…” He said in that therapist tone.

“Sure.” I deadpanned.

“How did it happen?”

I shrugged. “There’s really no defining moment that made me… you know. I didn’t even think I was for a long time.”

Link stared at me as I stared at my hands, he was confused but by now I was completely finished talking. I retreated to my bedroom and listened for the quiet click of the door closing. I curled into a ball under my duvet and stared blankly at the wall. At times like these my thoughts would start circling through everything.

The D I had gotten on my research paper.
Everybody liking Lisa more than me.
Embarrassing moments I couldn’t shake.

Images of times long forgotten started to be remembered in these moments, and they would linger in my minds eye, reminding me how pathetic I am. The first time I had told Link about the way my thoughts moved like that, he didn’t understand. I had to explain it to him five times more after that and when he finally understood, he made one long note in that damned notebook. That was when I asked him about it.

What do you write in there? I had said.

Notes.

Link didn’t explain any further. He never said more than he felt he had to, it was the most aggravating trait I had come in contact with. Most of the time it was one word answers and then I’d make some excuse to leave his company.

About what? I pressed.

Depression.

Why?

I want to understand it.

Even after I told him repeatedly that it was hard to understand unless you've been through it, he still tried. More power to him I guess. Though I felt it was useless, what would he do if he understood it? It wasn’t like it would stop people from getting depressed. I still aided him with his quest though, I suppose because I felt bad for him, wasting so much time on something so useless. Sometimes I even found myself trying to help him understand, but he didn’t because he’s never been in that place where nothing seems worth the exertion.

I pulled the duvet up over my head and fell into an uneasy sleep, which was almost worse than being awake. When I woke up, there was Link, sitting Indian style on the floor beside my bed. He had his notebook out and the pen in his hand moved across it quickly. I closed my eyes again, feigning sleep and wondered how the hell he had even gotten up here and why. This ‘understanding’ thing might have been going too far.

The noise of the pen scratching across the paper stopped for a moment and then started back up again. I opened my eyes a crack and a blurry image of Link staring at his notebook appeared. Opening my eyes all the way, I swiped the notebook from Link’s knee, no doubt creating a jagged line of ink across the page. He looked up at me, eyes wide.

“What are you doing?!” He cried, all trace of that calm tone gone.

In a weird way, it was nice to see him get passionate about something. He was always so neutral I wondered if he even had emotions. The fabric was smooth between my fingers as I crawled to the corner of my bed, as far away from Link as possible, and opened to the page he had been writing on. As I’d predicted, a jagged line ran from the right side of the page diagonally to the bottom edge. But before the line had gotten there, it had been a sketch of me sleeping.

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip and I flipped to the beginning; a sketch of me sitting in class, a sketch of me across a table, a sketch of me on my couch, and more. I tossed the notebook across the room; it hit the wall with a slap and slid to the floor. Link stared at it, no doubt wondering whether or not to retrieve it.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I exclaimed.

Link’s mouth opened and closed and a few noises escaped, but nothing remotely understandable. “It’s not what you think.”

“Of course it’s not.” I ran a hand through my hair and rested my head against my knees. “Get out.”

“Jess…” He trailed.

“Do you even know how creepy that is?! Drawing a person while they sleep! I thought… I thought… I guess I thought someone you knew was in the same state I am and that you were trying to help them by figuring out my issues. Not spending your time drawing me. I thought this was for a greater cause!”

A knot had wormed its way into my stomach and I breathed deeply, trying to push it down. It was funny how in books and movies having someone watch you sleep was somehow romantic, in real life though, it’s just creepy. I wanted to be alone. I wanted Link to go away so I could crawl into a hole and wait for this empty feeling to leave me so I could simply be happy again. Link looked like he was about to explain so I cut him off before he could even start.

“Just get out.” I pointed at the door and watched him pick up his notebook and leave. Sliding under my duvet again, I curled up and thought about what I had said. My thoughts circled again and I wallowed in my own self pity. More than ever I wanted a nice big rock to crawl under.