December 31, 2013 in lau0601, what should be by lau0601

It’s a complicated thing. Belonging to something, a place, a person; how do we get there?

Sometimes Tiffany was fine with it, was fine with being just herself. Sometimes she was happy with who she was because, well, why not? Sometimes she liked herself – not just “oh well I guess I’m not that bad”, but a full out “I am actually a cool person”. It seemed weird to her during those times, that people found that kind of self-appreciation odd and labeled it “narcissistic”. She wasn’t obsessed with herself, no. It wasn’t like she spent hours admiring herself in the mirror. Tiffany just liked herself, and that was fine with her.

Other times, though, she could feel so very, very stupid. Maybe it was a girl thing? Or maybe it was just her? Either way, Tiffany hated when those times came. It was so predictable that she could actually feel it happening to her, feel the uneasiness begin to creep up on her. On the occasional long stretch between, Tiffany would sometimes blink in surprise at the realization that hey, she’d been fine for a few months. And that was, in itself, an accomplishment.

She could feel it now. She could, and did, roll her eyes at it, trying desperately to stay casual and tell herself it wasn’t happening because if she gave in and accepted it, it would be a terrible week or so before she could drag herself out. But it was here, and so she succumbed – because how do you fight this?

And what was this? Ha, she’d tried to explain, once. And once was enough. How do you put into words the feeling of utter – utter despair? That feeling of not being enough – no, not even “enough”, but just being nothing. Of belonging nowhere. Of being able to do, what, nothing and being anything but someone. That sinking feeling in her chest, somewhere, of wanting to try but, no, better not. I can’t do it anyway.

She hated this. On days like this, it was hard to tell what she hated more – herself, or this stupid feeling that was more than a feeling, more than an emotion, this thing that clouded her view and tinged her world with just a little more gray. It – just –

She blamed it on different things. On being, you know, from a different country, with different ways of doings things, thinking, speaking. She blamed it for learning the wrong things – why climb a tree when what you really needed was to watch stock markets rise and fall? She blamed it on herself for being lazy and unmotivated and stupid.

Thing was, she couldn’t actually climb trees.

Maybe that was the heart of it. Maybe it was wanting to be able to do something special? Maybe it was the glittering lights around her – oh, this cliche – that in turn made her world darker.

Tiffany didn’t know how to put it into words. What the hell, she didn’t even know what this was. She could feel it, but how do you understand something that makes you want to sit in a corner, not crying, but just sit there, numb and silent? Course, she’d try to push it away – now, now, Tiffany, it’s not that bad. You’re making a big deal out of nothing! It’s fine, this will pass. Don’t worry. Smile, don’t think about it. It will pass.

It did, it passed every time. But in the middle of it, when the storm raged the hardest and the most quiet — in the eye of the lashing wind and rain and thunder, how do you deal with the silence?

It was nothing – but precisely! It was nothing. It was a huge thing she made out of nothing, it was something everyone went through, something that she didn’t deserve to whine about. But sometimes, it got a little too quiet, you know? When everything that she had hoped for fell silent, it was in those moments that Tiffany desperately wanted to belong to something – when she wanted to have something belong to her. She wanted to be more than nothing.

Footsteps. She swallowed and looked away; who was it now, to bother her in this gray? She couldn’t be sure of how she’d react, what if she was rude? At this moment, her useless, useless self really couldn’t care less.


Tiffany looked up and saw Yuri. Yuri’s face: a split second of concern, then sadness, anger, then it was clear. A tired exhale.

“You bloody idiot.”

With her face pressed uncomfortably against Yuri’s scratchy jacket, Tiffany didn’t really want the hug. Not now. Not a good time. Not when she was nothing.

Nothing…but a bloody idiot, perhaps?