11. waves

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As time went by, I slowly learnt that Lyra's headspace was like a tangled yarn of wool

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As time went by, I slowly learnt that Lyra's headspace was like a tangled yarn of wool. The more I would try to solve the knots, the more complicated the mess would get. And if I ended up losing my patience and tried to untangle these thoughts that ate her up in haste, the threads would break. And so would Lyra.

Unfixable and broken, probably forever. That risk was not one I was willing to take.

Days flew by and with each passing day, I found myself seeing a newer side of Lyra — like the moon I was so afraid of. A new phase each day, a new secret and form each day. At times, I was forced to question who Lyra really was — which side was her true face, after all.

In spite of the overwhelming turn of events, I was grateful that Lyra chose to trust me. She showed me parts of herself that she wished to keep hidden from the world, even from me before. But things were already changing and I couldn't help but feel my optimism grow. Because she was no longer going to suffer in silence. I was going to be there to accompany her in this journey all along. Till the very end.

Just like an iceberg, Lyra's soul had depths that were impossible to discover at once. A facade of happiness and bravery above the ocean, no one knew what hid underneath the surface. No one could see how lonely, how scared she was. Of the world, of strangers, of her own loved ones. She was afraid to trust, horrified of opening up to someone who could choose to walk away instead of helping her sort out the mess in her head.

Well, that was exactly what I was going through, trying to keep a huge secret to myself. A part of me was afraid that if I would tell someone about the past, about how I watched Lyra die and come back to life, things would take a turn for the worse. I understood her pain — of not being able to share your darkest secrets with anyone, of meeting your worst fears in nightmares, of having no option but to struggle in silence.

Trying to get into her head, I slowly tried to pull out even the slightest existing bit of appreciation she had for suicide. Lyra had been an escapist all her life — losing herself in books and movies, choosing to get attached to fictional characters instead of people she met in real life. But this time, her escape could turn into something deadly. And now that I knew, I wasn't going to let that happen.

Lyra was never a fan of positive speeches and I wasn't even good at them either. Whenever she used to cry before, I would usually do something to make her laugh so that we could get past the awkwardness. But we would never talk about the painful events that made her sick. She liked the way I respected her privacy and I liked the way she didn't feel like she had to hide things from me anymore.

Somehow, I had started believing that we were a perfect fit. Just like the spaces between our fingers, we were like the missing pieces of a puzzle that completed the empty space in our respective lives. We were the hope each of us needed to hold on to the strings of life. Even when things got rough, when the battles got tougher. We were ready to fight through it all with our hands locked together. It was her and me against the world.

Headspace (Book 1) ✓Where stories live. Discover now