So, I decided to stop being a "monster." Again.
I woke up on Monday and realized that being miserable is actually a full-time job, and I'm ready for a vacation. I looked at my room, the dark curtains, the piles of books about tragic women, the general vibe of a Victorian funeral, and I just felt... tired.
I opened the curtains. The sun was aggressive, but I didn't hiss at it for once.
I'm trying this thing. Let's call it "Aggressive Positivity." Every time a cynical thought pops into my brain, I try to swat it away like a fly.
Thought: James is a boring puppy. New Response: James is a stable, loving partner who literally blocked a girl for me. He's a literal saint.
Thought: I have no money and my parents hate me. New Response: I have a gap year to figure things out and a roof over my head. Perspective, Elara. Perspective.
It's working. Kind of. In that weird way where if you say a word over and over again, it starts to lose its meaning and just becomes a sound.
I'm saying "I'm happy" so much that I'm starting to believe the sound of it.
James: Good morning, goddess! Thinking of you. Hope you're feeling better today. <3
Usually, that text would make me want to throw my phone into a lake. But today, I took a breath and actually smiled.
Me: Good morning, Jamie! I am feeling better. I was being a bit much lately, sorry. You're the best.
James: OMG really?? You have no idea how happy that makes me. I was so worried I was losing you.
And for the first time, seeing him "happy" didn't make me feel like a liar. It made me feel... successful. Like I'd finally fixed a broken appliance in my brain.
I started seeing him in this "lighter light." Like, okay, maybe he lacks "grit." Maybe he's not the dark, mysterious hero from my novels.
But he's here. He's constant. He's a green flag so bright he's practically neon. In a world of teenage boys who take your virginity and leave without saying goodbye, James is a miracle.
"You look different today," my mom said at lunch. She wasn't even yelling about the dishes. "You look... lighter."
"I'm trying to be more positive," I said, and for once, I didn't follow it up with a sarcastic comment in my head.
I even went on a walk. An actual walk, in nature, without headphones. I looked at the trees and tried to feel "connected" or whatever. I thought about James's voice notes. Instead of cringing at the breathing, I tried to think of it as "vulnerability." He loves me so much he's willing to be awkward for me. That's kind of sweet, right?
I'm still cynical, obviously. I'm not lobotomized. I still know that $200 candles are stupid and that James's "Alpha" act was a disaster. But I'm choosing to focus on the fact that he tried.
I haven't checked Maya's page in forty-eight hours.
I feel like a "Normal Person." I'm eating breakfast, I'm being nice to my boyfriend, and I'm not dwelling on the "comfort of sadness." It feels like I'm wearing a brand new pair of shoes, they're a bit stiff, and I'm worried about getting them dirty, but they look good.
James: I'm making a new track. It's for you. It's got this really bright, upbeat synth line. I think you're gonna love it.
Me: I can't wait to hear it, Jamie. Send it over.
I sat back on my bed and waited for the file to download. I told myself I was going to love it. I told myself this was the life I wanted.
No more "Russia" in my belly. Just a quiet, sunny meadow. Even if the grass is made of artificial turf, it's still green. And right now, green is enough.