There’s a tally number above everyone’s heads but I’m still trying to figure out what it means. Some people’s are high, obnoxiously so, and other’s are low. Normally someone will have around 10-12, but it’s useless when I don’t understand it.

‘the fool’ they call me. they joke about my thoughts, laugh at my reactions. maybe i’m foolish. or maybe i’m trusting. maybe i’m gullible. is it really the worst thing, to be the fool?

I didn’t know places like these could still even exist, but here one is just sitting underneath layers of grime. It’s been reclaimed by nature now, as is the way of the world. The colony on Mars will love this discovery. A pre-collapse city is rare to find nowadays, especially one of this stature. There’s not much of it left, but some stone patterns are poking from the ground yet. Steel and plaster are hidden deep in the ground, the evidence of human’s failure buried six feet under. I can’t tell them this is here. They’ll want to fly back down and rebuild. Start over again on Earth. Destroy it again. I won’t let them.

They hugged. They left. They laughed. They cried. They loved. They lost. They came back. They yelled. They whispered. They smiled. They frowned. They lived.

This isn’t how I thought this would go. Wanted it to go. “But you left!” She screams. “You left without a word of reason and I’ve been left here struggling to cope. You’re despicable and cruel. How could you?” She hates me. “I told you why I left. I didn’t want to! Did my letters not mean anything to you? Show that I love you still, that I always have?” She stills. “What letters?” She must be joking. “The letters I wrote to you. Did you not get them?” “I never got any letters.” We’ve stilled. After an eternity of silence and processing, she asks in a quieter voice. “What did they say?” I step forward, grab her hand. She lets me. “I never wanted to leave. They made me. Why would I leave when I’m so deeply in love with you? Every chance I had I tried to get back here, back home. To you. I never stopped loving you.”

you tell yourself you’re ready for it. that it won’t hurt as much because you expected it, planned for it. but of course it hurts. it rips you apart and tears you down until you’re crying in your bed in the middle of the night just asking why why why. it’ll take some time but eventually you’ll realise you’re okay, you’re alive, you made it through, and you’re stronger. heartbreak hurts but we carry on.

This can’t be happening. Not really. I’ve watched shows and movies, read the articles, but never thought I would seriously be working at a bank while it gets robbed. Sure enough I’m crouching on the ground with all the other customers while guns are being waved over our heads. The fear is a lot more pronounced in person. The lady beside me is quietly hyperventilating and almost everyone has tears running down their face. I thought I’d knew what I’d do in this situation, but reality is drastically different.

I stopped counting days long ago. There’s no point, and I lost count years ago. I haven’t had the need. I’ve made a home here, a life. Russel is enough company. I’ve found peace here.

“Contender number twelve. Step forward.” I want to throw up. There’s nothing in my stomach to throw up. I step a shaky foot forward onto the dusty ground. The presenter voice booms over the stadium and all of my senses are overwhelmed at once. The crowd roars as my opponent waltzes into the arena and I swear I’m going to faint. “Let the game begin.” A horn sounds and my opponent charges towards me. Despite being starved and not knowing which parts of me are and are not broken, I swerve out of his way and hurry to pick up a weapon. I’ve never been so close to giving up, and yet still managed to keep on fighting. There’s nothing left for me out of this stadium, yet still I fight.

In a room full of people, I’m all alone. None of them would notice if I left. If I disappeared. They wouldn’t ask. I look around at them, silent in my head. No one knows me. Not like how I know myself. And it’s so incredibly lonely.