A few more speculations about Caleb’s character are made and then some general commentary on how nice it is that I’m bonding with someone from my class. I nod and grimace through it, but the moment I see an opening, I lie about needing a shower and bolt upstairs.

I do need a shower, but the thought of it exhausts me. Turning on the water, getting undressed, getting in, washing my hair, drying myself off, getting dressed again. It’s so much work. Too much. Instead, I reenter the cocoon of my bed, with no intention of ever coming back out again, even though I know Annabelle will want to catch up more at some point. I spare a second to wonder how long she’s staying today before even that takes too much energy.

The brief flashes of panic I felt at the thought of Caleb during breakfast have worn off, leaving an empty shell behind. I’m tired on a primal level. I’m tired in a way that makes me feel like I am carrying the missed sleep, the physical toil, the mental anguish of all of my ancestors. I should text Caleb now and tell him that he can’t come over tonight, tell him that I’ve got homework or family time or I’m too depressed to function.

I can’t say that. I know I can’t tell him the truth. Because that’s not how we work as a society. We don’t have the liberty of telling each other, “Hey, I’m having a depressive episode so I’m sorry for being distant or weird or useless or making myself bleed. I wish I could say that this is a one-time thing and will never happen again, but it isn’t and it will. I don’t want to be around you right now or during those times at all, but I would love if you took care of me and sat silently in the corner of the room for when I need someone to hug me. You will get nothing in return except for maybe my friendship when the cloud lifts and I can be human for two seconds. Hope that’s all good with you!”

But we don’t say that. We say, “I’m fine.” We say, “It’s nothing.” We make excuses that we know aren’t true and that they know aren’t true but we both pretend anyway like we’ve all agreed to have this collective hallucination together. And it gets us nowhere.

There’s a tiny, weak voice in the back of my head that’s saying maybe Caleb would understand. I want to believe it. And it’s true, Caleb is a surprisingly … sensitive guy, but I don’t think we’re at the point where I can just dump all this stuff on him.