UNHEARD

02:47 AM

I was staring at the ceiling.

I wasn’t trying to sleep.

I was thinking about sleeping.

Those were two different things.

My room was dark. A thin line of streetlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, drawing a pale streak across the ceiling. My eyes followed it.

Then a voice came from my right.

“You’re not sleeping again.”

I didn’t turn my head.

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“Liar.”

I stayed silent for a while.

She was right.

I closed my eyes.

Maybe this time I could fall asleep.

Maybe this time I wouldn’t think.

Maybe this time my mind would shut up.

“You have an exam tomorrow.”

“No need to remind me.”

“You didn’t study.”

“I know.”

Silence.

In that silence, only the clock on the wall existed.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

I turned my head to the right.

She was sitting next to the bed.

In her usual place.

Knees pulled up to her chest.

Smiling.

I couldn’t remember the day I first saw her.

Maybe it had been years.

Maybe longer.

I knew she wasn’t real.

I had never denied it.

Neither had she.

“You’re tired.”

“Everyone is tired.”

“But not everyone stares at the ceiling until three in the morning.”

I tried to laugh.

I failed.

I looked back at the ceiling.

“I love you.”

The words came out on their own.

She looked at me for a moment.

But she didn’t answer.

I closed my eyes.

“You didn’t say it again…”

She just smiled.

A strange knot formed in my throat.

Then, without meaning to, I smiled too.

“What is it?”

“Sometimes…”

I stopped.

I thought about finishing the sentence.

“…sometimes it’s hard to make you talk and answer you at the same time.”

The room went quiet.

She didn’t speak.

I didn’t speak either.

Because we both knew the same thing.

There weren’t two people in this conversation.

Only me.

The clock showed 02:51.

The open books on my desk just lay there.

Four minutes had passed.

Four minutes staring at the ceiling.

Four minutes trying not to think about anything.

I failed.

My phone vibrated.

A message from someone close to me.

“Are you studying?”

I stared at it for a few seconds.

Then I turned the phone face down.

I didn’t reply.

She looked at me silently.

“You’re running away.”

“Yes.”

“To where?”

I looked back at the ceiling.

I didn’t know.

Maybe I hadn’t known for years.

Maybe that was the real problem.

I kept staring at the ceiling.

I didn’t turn my head.

“Sometimes I imagine a life where it’s just the two of us… where there’s no pressure, no expectations…”

She lifted her hand toward my face.

For a moment, I thought I felt something.

Then it passed.

Her long fingers moved gently.

“Sometimes,” she said, “you build dreams that will never happen. Living like this… it wears you down.”

“So what,” I said, “I’m not even allowed to dream anymore?”

I turned to the right.

Looked at the wall.

A distorted pattern caught my eye.

I kept staring at it.

My gaze locked onto a single point.

My eyelids grew heavy.

I didn’t notice.

The weight of the day was on me.

After a while, I stopped thinking.

It was easier.

The exam tomorrow crossed my mind.

Then drifted away.

The blue of the sea stretched in front of my eyes.

Waves hit the shore, pulling back and leaving thin lines on the sand.

I watched them.

Just watched for a while.

I leaned back.

I didn’t know what I was leaning on.

It didn’t matter.

I tilted my head toward the sky.

The sun was directly above me.

Normally I should’ve squinted.

I didn’t.

The brightness filled my eyes.

But it didn’t hurt.

A faint smile formed on my face.

Without effort.

On its own.

I closed my eyes.

Redness spread behind my eyelids.

There was nothing but the sound of waves.

Quiet.

Peaceful.

I didn’t know how I got here.

But it was exactly where I wanted to be.

“Herb.”

A voice came from far away.

“Herb.”

It came closer.

“Come on. You need to wake up.”

The sound of the waves faded.

The wind stopped.

The sea started to blur.

The sand was being erased.

As if something was slowly deleting everything I saw.

I tried to open my eyes.

Sanem was standing in front of me.

“Come on, get up.”

I stared at her for a moment.

As if trying to understand what she was saying.

My eyes were heavy.

I blinked once.

Sanem disappeared.

In her place was my phone.

The alarm kept ringing.

I reached out to turn it off. My arms felt numb.

It took a few seconds to silence it.

The sound wasn’t just in the room.

It was inside my head.

I sat up in bed.

There was an exam today.

Even remembering it didn’t feel like anything special. Just information.

I wasn’t sad that I hadn’t studied. But there was a faint, nameless discomfort inside me.

I didn’t know what was missing.

I washed my face.

Cold water helped a little.

I looked in the mirror.

Bruised under-eyes. Messy hair. A face that was too quiet.

Just me, as always.

I put on my shirt. Fixed my tie.

My hands moved automatically. Without thought.

I left the house.

The weather was nice.

But the word “nice” meant nothing.

It was just a condition.

My backpack was light.

Too light for a day that should’ve been heavy.

It felt like I wasn’t going to an exam.

I didn’t think about where I was actually going.

Hands in my pockets.

A song stuck in my head. I found myself humming it without noticing.

I heard my voice, but it didn’t feel like mine.

On the way, I greeted people.

Automatic.

Some faces I recognized. Some I only pretended to remember.

They responded.

Smiles.

Everyone was in their place.

Except me.

As I got closer to school, the crowd grew.

Same uniforms.

Same day.

Same rush.

I looked at them.

Then I looked at myself.

Something was missing.

But I didn’t know what it was.

Maybe not knowing was easier.