32- Delirium

Same world: World II

September 14, 2016.

"Eron:

I am considering going back to studying communication. I didn't think I would, but I would like to try again. That's why I'm practicing this whole communication thing from now on, because I don't know what to do or feel, Eron. It hurts to see you less now than when we were dating. I can understand that you can't control it, and that's why I'm here to support you in everything. However, it exhausts me a lot. I feel like most of the time I'm alone. I wash, clean, organize, pay the bills with our money, and I'm also working. My body hasn't been extremely strong for a long time.

I wrote this because I am gathering strength to tell you face to face. I hope that you also write a little so that you express yourself more with me. That way, when you're unconscious, I'll feel like you're still interacting with me. I miss you so much, Eron. And I'm tired. Very tired.

Please, let's do something. Anything. I don't know what to do to not feel like this. I'm not blaming you. I'm venting. I love you. Sorry for not telling you earlier.

With love, Dakota."

I take a deep breath as I finish reading the last paragraph. I read it again calmly and try to process every word with the energy I have left. My head is still fried, but not to the point where I can't understand what Dakota is trying to tell me.

I didn't expect my fainting spells to intensify after our marriage, but here I am. Generally, before this, the fainting spells didn't last for long. Hours. Maybe one or two days. And when I experienced them at night, they didn't affect me much because I was supposed to be sleeping. Now I've been unconscious for up to four days, and that makes me think that I spend more than half of my life not knowing about the outside world. Is that even healthy? We couldn't even take a picture of our wedding. We had to recreate it days later to have a memory in a picture frame. It's ridiculous.

That's why I'm here, looking for the titles of the books that Professor Chad recommended to me. He told me to take a look at them so we could notice my supposed changes and work on them. I've realized that my relationship with Dakota hangs by a thread because the magic of our relationship has been quality time, and we haven't had much of it. Intimacy is also a part of it, and that hasn't happened much either. Besides, work piles up when I'm awake, and sometimes I don't even know where to start. I'm drowning in a sea of things and time seems to have shortened. I'm tired.

I had to come up with an excuse so that Theo wouldn't follow me to this bookstore. I don't want any more questions about it. They've been joking about it and I prefer to leave it at that. If this is real, things could be negatively affected. Or at least that's what all that weird material I've had to consume lately says.

"Do you need anything else?"

I shake my head from side to side as a sign of denial. I decide to take only one book for now, so I can process what needs to be processed at my own pace. My head could collapse with so much information all at once.

I call a taxi again and take the opportunity to open my phone and start writing something. Dakota is right. Besides, I recognize that I have written songs for many artists, but it's been a while since I've done it for her. I'm too much of an idiot to say things that I want to let out loud, but writing comes a little easier to me. That's what I live and eat off of, actually. Not just making music.

Despite that, writing the first word is difficult for me. Always. I think for any writer, the hardest part is starting. Once they do, the muse acts on its own and they have a much better time putting their ideas into words.

I am a frustrated writer now. I don't know how many minutes I remain stunned in front of the screen, but when I finally decide what to write, I receive a call. My heart calms down when I see that it's Dakota and not anyone else. I think I was thinking so much about what to write for her that I attracted her to me.

"Hello, southern boy," she greets. My lips curl into a slight smile. "Are you coming to the house today?"

"Yes. I finished work in the studio early, that's why I'm just on my way," I tell her. I move the phone away for a moment and notice that it's already midnight. "I'm sorry. I thought it was earlier."

"Yeah, me too. I was watching a series until recently," she comments. "Did you read what I left for you?"

I nibble on my lips. I don't know how to respond elaborately.

"Uh… yes."

"When can we talk about that?"

"Soon, hopefully," I murmur.

"Today?"

"So soon!?" I raise my voice. I see the taxi driver jump and I have to apologize for that. "It's just that… I just read it recently, and…"

"Of course…" She elongates the word a bit. "Did you at least consider what I told you about expressing yourself through writing?"

"Of course I did! I was just about to do that."

I hear her breathe with hints of relief on the other side of the line.

"That's good. It makes me feel more at ease. It stresses me out to postpone things."

I smile again.

"Patience is not your middle name, Dakota."

"My middle name is cunning. You're absolutely right," she jokes. "I ordered dinner this time. There's still time to add something for you. Do you want something light or heavy?"

"Light. I didn't sleep at all last night."

"That's strange," she jokes. This time the joke doesn't amuse me. Instead, it makes me feel a little guilty. I think my silence conveys to her what I'm feeling, because she clears her throat. "Well. I'll order it right away. See you in a while. Make sure to give me your address correctly."

"I already did. I won't get lost in a taxi again," I say, and once again, my tone of voice doesn't leave anything good to say. "We'll see each other. Have a great night."

The burden of guilt centers on my chest to the point where I feel my heart beating in many words per minute. Unintentionally, I think I have the beginning of my response note.

"From: Eron. Someone who needs to express himself and hopes to do it correctly from now on because he loves you…"

At this precise moment, my fingers on the screen move much better. And before I notice it, I'm in front of my house. I have to interrupt my creative flow to pay the taxi and enter the house. When a writer starts writing, the keyboard runs on its own. It's an indescribably wonderful feeling. It gives me peace. I have peace.