Citalopram Stories No.5 – Untitled

I was joined for the second night in a row by a conveyor belt of characters I was unable to fully recognise. I spent most of the dream reading a book yet unpublished by Russell Brand, walking through the streets of an unnamed city spending all my time on words as they made everything pointless.

At one point I was on a beach with a girl I hadn’t known from university. She knew me well enough, having offered me a lift to what seemed to be a party taking place on the shoreline. About three of my friends were all there briefly, cheering for me, passing me drink after drink, genuine smiles invading their faces. I felt happy until they left not long after, their heads seemingly bobbing away from me for hours.

I saw nothing of anybody all night apart from glimpses at the girl who had brought me there, her eyes drifting from her boyfriend’s to mine, taking me in from a distance, always smiling when our gazes met. I was reading too much into it.

The next morning I woke up with the book in my hands again, the world going on without me as I stamped through it. At a bus stop, I looked up, and saw her in person for the first time in four years. She was wrapped in a gown and her eyes were stained red; it must have been graduation.

‘Jesus. Hello.’

‘Hello.’ She continued to walk as she spoke, no intention of stopping for a chat.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes. I’m fine.’

‘Okay. Bye.’

She offered no goodbye, never looking back as she walked away forever. Those eyes stayed with me for hours, the veins pumping sadness round from the back and tears staining her makeup slightly. It made me feel negative in a way I’d never felt before. No real sadness. No real numbness. I was just sure, when I looked at those eyes, that everything was definitely not going to be okay. No matter what, the world was horrible and I would always come out at the bottom.

Then I woke up.

If you'd like to follow and support Jake Ormrod, you can regularly check this site or donate money to his Patreon here.