The Others - 25. Chapter 25: A life worth living?

“So, how was your last day of school?” my mom asked me.

I feel a little... I don’t know, sick or something? I'm stressed and my stomach is rumbling. Could that be because I wanted to continue my conversation with Seth? Shit, this is getting out of hand. I'm starting to act like I did when Yuri was around.

“It was good,” I reply.

“This was actually the first time in your life you went to the last day of school. Am I right?”

Seriously, even though my mom works a lot, she somehow is able to keep track of my every movement. Not really every movement, I hope. Otherwise she would know about my contact with Codey. Can’t have that happening.

“I think it was.”

“It’s not so bad, then?” She smiles, handing me the cucumber and knife.

“I actually liked it," I tell her. "How do you want me to cut the cucumber?"

“Slices, it’s for the salad.”

She grabs some spaghetti and a tomato. “So why did you go?”

I look at her confused. “Why did I go to school?”

She nods.

“Why wouldn’t I?” What is she getting at?

“I don't know, but you never went before, so why would you go now? Was there someone special to go for?”

'Was there what?' I thought. It wouldn’t be the first time my mom was able to explain why I do certain things. Even before I realise myself. Sometimes it feels like she knows me better than I know myself.

“So, do you still want to go on your biking trip next week?” she continues her questions.

“Of course.”

“Have you got a plan, what you'll be doing?”

Writing a goodbye letter for you. It feels weird, you know. I’ve lived for this moment for so long. Getting away from my ordinary life, but for some reason I haven’t really thought about it that much. It’s almost as if I don’t care that much. You would expect it occupied me all the time. I wonder if people who are about to commit suicide feel the same way? Would they be obsessed with their plan to kill themselves? Or are they more like me; in the back of their mind they know they will do it, but they don’t really think about it.

“No plans, mom. I want it to be an adventure.”

We finish preparing the meal and then eat without Tyde. I know my mother is still worried about things, but she tries not to show it.

“Do you want to watch a movie together?” she asks as we clear up the table.

“Nah, I have some work to do.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Work to do? Isn't school is over?”

Shit, she's right. That excuse won’t work anymore. “I want to write mom.”

“Ahh, okay. Why don’t you ever show me what you write?”

“It’s kinda personal.”

She nods. I leave and I rush upstairs.

Seth is online.

“Hey!”

“Hey AB. How was your dinner?”

“It was good. So how are you?”

“Not much changed since an hour ago, haha.”

We carried on talking for over 3 hours.

It was getting dark outside and I knew I had to start writing my goodbye letter. I'd already written one a few years back. Well, it had started out as a letter, but it grew to the proportions of an actual book. It took me almost a year to write it. Every day I wrote a few pages. It was meant to be my backup if I ever wanted to say goodbye to the world. Then at least I'd have something to leave behind. Those were my darker periods. When I saw no other solution than to kill myself. Luckily I survived those years. I found another way.

This is my suicide. Leaving everything behind. It feels great, knowing that in three days I’m out of here.

I open a word file and start writing:

Dear mom,

I’ve known I needed help for a long time now, but honestly, I don’t think anyone can help me. Why, you ask? Well, in order for someone to help, that person needs to understand me. In order to understand me you need to know what I feel and how I think. When this thought first occurred to me, I looked around and noticed how I envy everyone. I see successful people, people who managed to stay alive. They have ambitions and dreams. While thinking this, I realised I never believed there was an adult that feels like I do. That isn’t meant to sound selfish. I don’t enjoy thinking of myself as strange and different. No, there is another reason. While thinking this, I discovered that deep down I always knew why no adult feels like I do. It's because I know only one person that thinks like I do, me. The reason I don’t expect to find someone around that is like me, is because subconsciously I never expected to survive that long.

I hope this makes at least a little sense to you. You’ve been a great mom to me, and this is absolutely not your fault. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I will return. That’s a promise. Don’t try to call me. After my last text I will turn the phone off. Thanks for a wonderful life!

I save it and then I open the goodbye book, that I wrote a few years back. I scroll through the pages. I cry. Of course I cry. It’s all so true. How could I have felt like that three years ago, and still feel that way? You know, I don’t think of myself as being depressed or anything. I'm not. I am strange, I am sad. But I’m not depressed. I can try to explain how I feel, but I don’t know exactly myself. What I do know, however, is that when I think about my last few weeks. Everything that's happened: Seth, Codey, Sam, Tyde. It’s just so exhausting. Why do I even try to keep in touch with other human beings, with the others? If every time when I get home I start crying. I feel so tired. When I think about those weeks and I imagine living another year like this. I feel like a kid who tries to get attention by promising to jump off a bridge, but on the edge of the bridge is very scared. You know you have to do it, you can’t just slide off the edge . Not now, but you’re scared. That’s the feeling I have. The only difference: after jumping off the edge you will feel relieved. You did it! I can’t jump off the bridge, even though I promised. Jumping off it is equivalent to finishing your life. Not killing yourself, means living through it all. I'll have to feel this devastating fear for another, who knows, fifty years? I can’t do that. There is no way out. I am helpless. Try to imagine that. You can’t live, but you can’t die either. You live in the void between life and death. That’s why I'll run. I'll slide off the edge. I will accept not being popular and live with it. People will think me a coward, but I don’t care.

I am a coward. I failed the easiest task in life: living. It’s too hard for me. How is that even possible?

It’s past midnight and I’m still scrolling through my goodbye letter. I click open skype again and to my surprise Seth is still online.

Immediately there's a message from him.

“You’re awake?!?”

“I am. Can’t fall asleep.”

“Why not?”

“You know, you told me I have to talk people, right? I’m gonna do that now, if that’s okay with you?”

“You’re gonna tell me what’s on your mind. Of course that’s fine with me! I’m glad to be able to help!”

“I’m planning on running from my life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m gonna take off Monday. Just going to head in one direction and never return home.”

There’s silence for a moment.

“Without telling anyone?”

“I’m telling you.”

“I mean, what about your family. They will be worried.”

“I’m leaving a note for my mom.”

“Like a goodbye note?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Well, like you said, she would be worried otherwise.”

“She will be worried no matter what. But that’s not what I mean, why would you want to run?”

“Well, you read my blog posts. You have an idea about how I think about things. But there is more, I just can’t be around other people. I feel confused, sad. I feel like I need to run. I can’t explain why, not even to myself.”

“We all have our problems, that doesn’t mean you should run. I have hard times too, but I don’t consider running from my family.”

“The difference between the problems of others and mine is that apparently, thanks to my problems, I feel like I should run.”

“But you should try and stay strong. I’m sure there are others that feel like you do, but stayed strong.”

“You don’t get it, do you? Even if they felt like me and stayed strong, that was them, not me. You can’t compare me to others.”

“You’re rambling.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just getting tired of people telling me to stay strong. To me that’s like telling someone who isn’t intelligent to get smart. I can’t do it.”

“If you keep pushing the problem away, if you keep saying you can’t do anything about it, then you won’t ever, that’s for sure.”

“Seth, let’s not fight over this. You can’t change it, I've decided. Let’s talk about something else. Death.”

“Huh? That’s unexpected xD. Why that?”

“Because there's something about how you're thinking. Something I see in others as well. I want to test something.”

“You just told me you were about to run away from your home. I can’t simply change the subject. AB, you’re a smart and troubled person.”

I see he is going to type something else, but I interrupt.

“Stop it, please. I’ll go offline if you keep talking about it. I told you what was on my mind. Now just be happy about it. Please man.”

“Okay… So, death.”

“Do you believe in the afterlife?”

“Not really. I believe in reincarnation, but you won’t remember anything from your old life.”

“Isn’t that the same as dying? If you can’t remember anything?”

“No, I’m not sure why, but your soul keeps on living. Even though you can’t remember anything from your previous life.”

“Okay, another question. What is the purpose of life in your opinion?”

“I don’t know. I guess achieving something? Doing something for the people that come next. Making a better life for them. Being remembered by them. Like you wrote yourself, the ancient Greeks believed you will stay alive as long as you’re being remembered.”

“That's right, I did write an article about it. It also said something about losing your memory. Imagine this: what if you suddenly lose all your memories. You don’t know your name, your whole past, just nothing.”

“Yeah, you wrote that. I didn’t really understand it, but I liked it. I guess…”

“Would you try to find out about who you were previously?”

“Of course!”

“But you aren’t him anymore. You start over, clean slate. There is nothing that connects you to your previous self. Only the environment you wake up in and maybe your looks.”

“What about the people that knew me?”

“They see someone who looks like the old you, but is different. Why would you try to become the old you? What binds you to him?”

“My body. I am him, even though I forgot about it.”

“Would you blame yourself if you didn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you aren’t there anymore. The new you forgot about you. So what I'm saying is that you would try to find out about yourself, but that’s not up to you anymore. What if the new you doesn’t try to find out about his old self: you.”

“I would blame him.”

“If I’m rambling, please stop me, okay? I’m just wondering a few things.”

“I like this. You force me to think about things I never thought about.”

“Okay, so I’ll continue. What if this new you does try to find out about you. Moreover, he will try to continue to live like you. He will meet your friends, live in your room. He will become you.”

“That’s scary to think about.”

“It is, isn’t it? So, if that happens and he in some way becomes you, but not really. Because you are the way you are because of your memories, your experiences. But okay, imagine he continues your life, would that mean you got revived?”

“No.”

“Why not.”

“He isn’t me.”

“He has your body, he has your friends and your family. He even learned about the things you liked. What makes you, you? Why isn’t he you?”

“As you said, he doesn’t know what I do, he didn’t experience the things I did.”

“So it’s the memories. You are you because of your memories? You ARE your memories?”

“My brain is dying right now, haha. I agree with you, though.”

“It’s hard to think about it, I know. You should feel sorry for me, haha. I think like this all the time. But let’s continue this rambling. There is a reason you forgot everything, that you lost your memories. Apparently you have some sort of illness that makes you lose your memory every week. What is your life worth if you have to start over every week?”

“He is able to feel emotions. He can be happy, even if he starts over a week after it.”

“But he won’t be able to remember it for more than a week.”

“Yeah, but he does feel joy.”

“You told me the purpose of life is to achieve something. In a week he probably won’t achieve a lot. Does that mean his life has no purpose?”

“Hmm, you’re right. Maybe the purpose of life is to feel joy instead?”

“I like the change, we’re going from helping the next generation to feeling joy. We’re becoming more and more selfish, xD”

“You are forcing me to think like this, you sneak!”

“This is called a Socratic dialogue.”

“So you are comparing yourself to Socrates?”

“Maybe I was him in my previous life but I simply don’t remember it?”

“Hey AB, I like this, I know it’s getting late, but can we please continue? I won’t be able to talk to you anymore, if you’re gonna run away. So please, can we stay up the whole night?”

“I will try, haha.”

“So, I will lose my memory every week.”

“Yeah, and you believe your life still has meaning. So, what about if you lose your memory every two days?”

“What about it?”

“Does your life still have meaning then?”

“Yeah.”

“What about losing your memory every day?”

“Still.”

“So where is the point of no return? How short do I have to make every session for you to decide it's not worth anything anymore?”

“I don’t know. Every second? Or something. There is no real boundary, I think.”

“You said you believe in reincarnation, but you forget everything from your previous life. Isn’t that the same as imagining an immortal with an illness. He isn’t losing his memory every second, but let’s say, every eighty years?”

“I guess.”

“But he can achieve something, right?”

“He can.”

“Is that necessary to live a good life?”

“You just told me that my opinion was that the purpose of life was to feel happy, so no. His purpose is to feel happy.”

“I don’t feel happy. What’s my purpose?”

“I’m sure you do feel happy.”

“Sometimes. Yeah, like when I watch a movie or write a post.”

“So, keep on doing that. If it makes you happy.”

“But then I won’t achieve anything.”

“You’re the Anonymous Blogger! Of course you achieve something. There are thousands of people that read your blog posts with lots of joy.”

“Seth. I don’t know. I just don’t. Why do I feel this urge to run away then? Why am I so exhausted being alive?”

“I don’t know. But what I do know is that I like you a lot. I like talking to you, I like how you keep me busy in my head. I don’t know you at all, but I like you.”

“Thank you, Seth. Thank you.”

“So I won’t talk to you anymore? When you’re gone, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I will come back. Maybe the outside world will scare me. I don’t know. But whatever happens, I know I need to do this.”

“It’s your choice. I just hope you’ll think about me when you’re gone. I’ll be waiting for you, here behind my pc. I’ll miss you, AB.”

“I will miss you too. I think I should go to bed now, I’m sorry.”

“No problem. Sleep well. I think I will be thinking about your example of losing memory for the next few hours, haha.”

“Sorry. Sleep well, Seth!”

Is this goodbye? I'll see him at the party. But that will be me and now I was the AB.

Just another three days and I’m gone!