Remembering painful memories rids current happiness.

Your friends then are traitors now.

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

It’s been four years.

Four years since the sun shone in my eyes, since my feet grazed the blades of grass, since my skin had felt the heat and the atmosphere.

Four years since my fingernails were free from soil, since my legs had brought me to a full stance, since my fingers had stretched from their curled positions.

Four years since I had seen my love, since I had held him in my arms, since I smelled his scent.

The lonely disease had taken me, diminished me until I could not feel the love I used to have. I had run out of rent, run out of food, run out of time.

I knew this day was coming, I could see it in my future. I built for this, my father built for this. He died making this shelter. He stacked it with non-perishables. And yet it had not lasted the four years. I had resulted to worse things.

I am afraid of what my love will think of me. Will he be worse? Will he empathize? Or will he be struck by the hunger that I had felt and never show?

I can only see my television. The screen cracked, cables running to the surface where solar panels faced the sun. The news anchor could barely keep her containment: “we are finally free”.

Freedom will never release me from the wrongs that I have done. The toilet paper that I had stolen from that older woman. The homeless that begged for water that I bought in bulk. The masks and hand sanitizer I had stolen from the hospitals and nurses that needed them. The food I had made for myself...

The anchor was so happy. Yet she will never realize that I used to have a dog.

She went walking in the garden. The soil dried as swift as the season. The pebbles stuck to the soles of her cold feet. The frost gathered at the peaks of the mountainous dirt and dissolved in the divots. Winter was impending. It lingered long enough for the living to shelter back into its roots.

Jane Scott wore no cloak or boots. Her toes froze on the crystallized earth and her platinum plait started to frizz in the bitter winter air. Jane did not choose the absence of her cloak or boots, her mother had torn them all to pieces. Jane's mother seemed to shred all of Jane's possessions: her ribbons, her sweaters, and her notebooks. She could not keep anything from her mother.

Jane's brother had been more privileged than her. He received toys and sweaters from their mother and never had his belongings ripped or destroyed. Perhaps this was because he was younger than she, or because his modest and considerate manners kept him out of trouble. Or maybe because he did not tell the local chief of police that his father beat him and his sister and sent his father to prison for two years. No, her brother was a good boy. Jane was the one who sought this justice for her brother and abandoned her father. The loss of her father had not affected her as greatly as it did to her mother. Jane's mother's stone heart could not shed a sliver of forgiveness for Jane. This all occurred two months before the Scott's rented their cabin.

A dense curtain of forestry camouflaged the rotten cabin from the outside world. The barren branches crookedly protruded from their trunks to cast soft shadows of lightning bolts on the frost-bitten ground. The forest floor had been flawless with an untouched layer of snow that contrasted with the flaming leaves beyond. Over the skeletal canopy, the porcelain clouds dimmed with the sky as dusk melted into night. It was almost time for bed and Jane still walked in the garden watching snowflakes flutter to the ground.

Jane always questioned what was beyond their cabin.The innkeeper had warned them to never go past the trees unsupervised and that something dangerous waited for them. Jane was curious and when she passed even a millimeter into the forest, she would retreat into the protection of the cabin. She often wondered what beast dwelled in the broad forest; a bear, a fleet of foxes, or possibly even a mystical creature like a Pegasus or a Griffin. Jane had never been more wrong.

It's winter. The snowflakes are graciously dancing in the wind. They fall onto the pavement before me and linger for a while longer before melting into each other. They say that every snowflake is different. Each one is unique in their own way, and I don't doubt that. But there must be some that are almost completely identical. Some feel jealous that they are not so different from the next.

It's been three days. Sitting on the pavement for three days just hoping to find someplace to live. I could go to a hotel; I have sufficient funds to do so. I would rather punish myself for what I've done than give myself the luxury of a shelter. I don't deserve it.

As I sit on the pavement, the snowflakes eventually start to stack upon each other. The cold, frigid air finally creating the perfect environment for their icy bodies to stay. I have been sitting here for days for the same reason that I did my horrible act in the first place, I don't care. I haven't cared for a long time. It was only a matter of time before anyone really caught on to my apathetic attitude to finally do something about it.

Earlier in the year, I had noticed this sinking feeling that originated in my chest. Slowly, slowly sinking deeper and deeper until the pit of my stomach catches on fire. My wife reminds me day in and day out to watch the kids while she goes to work. She's angry with me all the time. The kids are too much to handle. My last one didn't exactly turn out the way I wanted it to. In fact, I didn't even want it at all. She told me she couldn't get pregnant and now look at us. It's not my fault anyway, it's the woman's job to get sterilized.

I was bored, I was selfish, and in a way, I thought I was rewarding myself. It wasn't cheating unless I actually did something about it. Asking for pictures from the neighbor was the first of many rewards I gave myself. Then it was videos from my friends. Then it was online gambling. Then it was refusing to see my kids until I felt like it. I couldn't just let them see me like this. I wanted to get better before they could enter my life again. Or at least that was what I was telling myself.

I had a jacket and boots on but it only took me five minutes until I wasn't able to feel my fingers and toes. I clutch my phone in my hand, the only thing that has been keeping me afloat.

My first wife wasn't as brutal. She was small, caring, selfless. We had two kids and then I begged her to get fixed. She agreed and we had a good thing going for a while. Then she caught me talking to other women at work and she made a fuss. Kept telling me that we had a family and that it wasn't right to treat her that way. I said for what, I'm not allowed to talk to women? I called her controlling and called it a night. I only started feeling bad until after she went to the hospital for cancer. Our kids were still young so thank god they didn't understand what the fuck was going on. I took care of them while she was gone and that was the worst moment of my life. Too much work for a person like me. So I met her friend and we hit it off and that was when I told her I wanted a divorce.

My second wife was the one that did this. Been with her for years and we had that kid that I didn't want. Turned out that he had autism or some shit. It probably got it from her though, she smoked while she was pregnant. And then I felt my chest sink and I couldn't think of some other way to release it than talking to the neighbor about it. And sending pictures

So here I am. Do I regret any of it? Not really. It happened, there's no going back. So now, here I am in the snow. Where I belong. I've told my kids that I won't be seeing them for a long time. And it only seems fitting that I leave in the snow, in the dead of winter.

I am waiting.

I am waiting.

I am waiting.

The darkness that once blankets my vision now reveals a brighter and newer day. A day in which I will wait and wait and wait.

I have been standing in the same spot. For hours. For days. I have never left this spot. My feet are covered in soil. I am the Earth.

The sun's beams hit my face. I am blinded by the heavens. I know that it will replenish me. I know that I will be alive again. But still, I wait.

The wind sweeps me from side to side and all that keeps me anchored are my feet in the soil. They want to break free, but I know that I will be here forever.

So I decide to wait. I wait for something, anything to happen.

Every day I sit and wait. I wait for the water to drip from the grey skies, I wait for the sun to shine down on my face and bring me joy. I wait for people to walk by and to pick from the flowers that lay beside me.

Then today, I see someone. My waiting has finally come to an end. He leans down and examines my beautiful physique. I strike a pose that I think will flatter him; maybe he will pick me. Maybe I have waited for the right person to come and bring me home.

He gets up, I wonder where he is going. He has stared at me for so long that I wonder if he is just playing games with my heart. And even so, I cannot bear to wait another day.

He stands so tall beside me, the sun rays that fill me with joy are blocked by him. Perhaps he will be my new joy.

His foot raises in the air like a god, he is about to do something! Oh, how I missed feeling my feet. They have wriggled so far beneath the soil that I cannot feel them anymore. But this being can show me how to move my feet again. He will bring me joy.

His foot is getting closer. And closer. And closer. And suddenly I feel my spine bend and break under his foot. My skin rips apart. My blood is exposed to the air. I can feel everything. I beg him to stop but he will not listen. I cannot speak.

His foot presses me to the Earth, I see nothing but dark.

Why would he do this to me? I was waiting for him, and he did this to me. And now I will never be the same. I will never stand the same. I will never feel the same.

When I think of stress and anxiety, my mind travels to the many instances where my disorder has gotten to the best of me. I think of when my loss of breath renders me immobile and incoherent to what is around me.

I was 19 years old and I was on my way to work. My mother was driving me and we had decided to stop by a car dealership to pick up my step-dad as he was fixing up our old car. I remember dreading work as my position in the warehouse I was working at was one of the worst jobs there could be. Repetitive, uneventful, boring, and tedious. At least I was dressed nicely for one of my last days there before heading back to University. As we were turning into the driveway of the auto shop, a line of cars came rushing by. It was nearly a gridlock of cars waiting to enter the highway in which we had just exited. One truck decided to let us through, my mother turned left into the autoshop. And that's when it happened.

Now, the reason I had never gotten my full license was because of my anxiety and stress while driving. I could barely grip the steering wheel I would not be able to breathe. I was always afraid. Afraid I would crash, afraid someone would hit me, afraid I would go to fast.

The things I remember are vivid. I remember looking to my left and seeing a car speed into ours. I remember the sound of crackling glass. I remember gasping so hard my lungs felt as if they were about to pop. My eyes shut after my gasp and I gripped the passenger door. My knees hit one another and my head nearly cracked the passenger window. My mother yanked the steering wheel from side to side, trying to keep the car stable after the collision and avoiding a pole that would have caused even more damage if we ran into it. The car stopped and she grabbed my head, "you're okay, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay." My eyes were still shut.

I don't remember my step-dad pulling me out of the car. I don't remember when I started crying. To be honest, most of my memory after my head hit the glass is a blur. A man came out the car that hit us, "why were you turning, you must've saw me." He had a burn mark on his arm, he was bleeding.

The police and ambulance came, they asked me questions like "where did you hit your head? Is there a bump? How old are you? Do you think you need to go to the hospital?"

Did I need to go to the hospital? What was going on? Who are you? Am I hurt? Everything was so vivid and dream-like I had no idea what words were coming out of my mouth. As if the communication was cut-off. I wasn't bleeding. I didn't know if I was in pain. All I could feel was a coursing sense of shock and haze. I had no idea what was happening.

I didn't go to the hospital. I had a severe concussion and possibly tore the muscles by my knees. But all I could see was the bleeding man from the car and how hurt he was. I called my boyfriend to pick me up and I fell asleep after two hours.

I can't get in a car without panicking. I can't stare out the window like I used to as I have to be attentive to every turn that my driver makes. My shoulders and neck are in permanent pain.

I cannot drive without feeling stressed.