I Am a Passenger

Sara tossed her keys on the coffee table with her coffee table book about volcanoes, and walked into her room and sighed as she Michael laying prone on the floor beside the nightstand.  ”What the fuck, Michael?”  
“I…” replied Michael.
“What is… that?”
“I…  I swear.  I won’t do it again.  This is the last time.  Swear to God,” Michael struggled to say.  
“Oh my God!” Sara shouted.  She ran to his side and patted his back.  
“Why are you patting my back?”
“Why the hell did you do it this time?”
“Can you help me?”
“Well, shit, how?  When did you do this?”
“Like  ten… I don’t really know.”  
Michael slit his wrists approximately seven minutes before Sara arrived to her apartment.  He woke up in Sara’s apartment after drinking several shots and discussing his problems with a sober Sara.  He remembered all the things that he told Sara and felt like killing himself, so he tried. But what do I know? I’m not a mind reader. I’m just really good at interpreting things. I have keen perception. Well, Sara found Michael sitting at her door last night, trying to untie the very tight knot on his left shoe.
“What are you doing?” she asked him when she came back from a date after work. I think.
“Hey. You want to smoke a cigarette with me?” he asked.
“Not really,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”
“What? So you’re just going to make me smoke by myself?”
“Why are you here?”
“Everyone thinks they got the right answers. Oh, this book is definitely better than this book by the same author.”
“…”
“Stop being so pretentious, Sara.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Are you drunk?”
“Don’t mock me.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“You’re pathetic. Can you get away from my door and let me get in?”
“Come on. Just one cigarette.”
“Fine, but you better leave right after.”
Michael took his time getting up, but they made their way outside to smoke cigarettes. I smoked my first cigarette with my uncle, Anton. He was an avid fan of baseball. His favorite team was the Texas Rangers. I think it was because he was born and raised in Texas or maybe he just really liked their uniforms. Sorry.
“Do you think I’ve gained weight?” asked Michael outside in front of Sara’s apartment.
“No,” she said while taking her first puff.
“I’m not self-conscious, am I?”
“No.”
“It’s so stupid how we’re smoking cigarettes. It’s not cool because we kind of think it’s cool.”
“You’re insane.”
“It’s been suggested. See. That was really a not cool thing to say because I probably said that because I thought it would’ve sounded kind of cool in a weird way.”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Sorry. I’m all out of sorts. I feel really isolated, you know? And like everyone’s kind of watching me, but not caring. They’re just observing me like with really stony eyes – not really giving a shit. They’re just looking at me to look at me.”
Sara probably really wanted to go back inside and think about how her date went while taking a bath. She wasn’t sure how she used to be in love with the guy she was smoking with. I remember when she used to play with my toes just as were falling asleep. It was weird how loved I felt when she did that. Something so gross, but intimate.
“Okay. I got to go back inside,” said Sara.
“Why?” asked Michael.
“I’m tired. I have work tomorrow.”
“You write your little articles so people can read them or so people can read them then appreciate them and give you praises for them?”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m sorry. I just caught my girlfriend dancing with some other girl. They were both naked and smiling.”
“What?”
“Yeah. It was highly unexpected. I think she’s going through this thing where she’s trying to be cool.”
“Stop with your trying-to-be-cool bull shit. It’s God damn annoying.”
“Using the lord’s name in vain. Sounds like you’re trying to be–”
Sara slapped Michael, and was about to go back inside when Michael threw up on the pavement and burst into tears. I really wish he didn’t do that. That’s something people do that they will regret later on.
In Sara’s apartment, Michael and Sara sat on the couch. Sara turned on the TV. Jurassic Park was on. She changed it immediately remembering that time she and Michael made fun of it one night before having sex. She felt awkward when she finally settled on a baseball game so she went to grab some beers.
“You hear the new Arcade Fire album?” asked Michael when Sara handed him a beer.
“No.”
“It’s quite good. I especially like the song, Intervention.”
“Okay. I’ll look out for it.”
Michael opened his beer. Sara put hers down.
“You know, actually, I’m not going to drink this. I’m very tired. Feel free to stay here. Night, Michael.” She left to go to bed.
Michael felt very isolated once again. He wanted to want Sara, but he just couldn’t. He went to her kitchen. There, he found a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. He downed quite a few. I don’t remember exactly how many, but he got really drunk. I mean, real drunk. He went to her room – Sara’s room, and just laid beside her. She was still sleeping, I think, but he started rambling on.
“It’s really such bull shit. Everything. Why do people have to try and figure people out? Why is everyone such a God damn narcissist – wanting everyone else to know what exactly they like and what they hate? I don’t think a lot of people give a shit about whether or not you like David Bowie’s earlier work and that you’re musically diverse because you like shoegazer bands like My Bloody Valentine while at the same time, liking Nas and Debussy. Oh, but they say they actually do. I don’t care. Let me learn it. Don’t just tell me. You don’t see me introducing myself by saying, ‘Hey. I’m Michael. I like Spoon, and I really like French New Wave films.’ It’s stupid. I don’t know. Maybe I’m stupid. I really wish I wasn’t like this. I hope I’m not waking you up, but then why am I still talking then? I’m drunk. I’m sorry. It’s my bad. I really saw my… well, to be honest, it wasn’t my girlfriend who was dancing naked with another girl while smiling. It was just this girl who I thought maybe I had a crush on because I thought it would be nice to fuck her. That sounded wrong. I’m sorry again. Are you awake, Sara?”
Sara was awake, but too afraid to say anything. Well, I think anyway. Michael continued. “I just… Remember that time I tried eating a lot of pills to kill myself? I really didn’t want to die. I tried to force myself to feel like I wanted to die, but I just didn’t. I could’ve just slit my wrists or something to make it more likely to be successful, but no, I really didn’t want to die. I just wanted attention. Make my life meaningful by realizing the importance of life after failing to kill myself, but I realized what I was actually trying to do, and it just made me more upset. Well, I think anyway. I don’t think anyone really knows why they do what they do. I must be so God damn annoying. I apologize. I’m not self-conscious. I shouldn’t be, you know? Do you maybe want to have sex with me? Shit. I’m sorry. Cigarettes are lame. I think you’re lame. I really like you, Sara. I even like your name. Jurassic Park‘s great. I saw it the other night. Shit. I’m sorry again. I’m so lame. I’m going to pass out now.” I don’t know why he said what he said. I know he was drunk, but I’m not exactly sure why he had to say the exact things he said to Sara. I don’t even know why I’m telling you that. I just know that Michael woke up after Sara left for work, and slit his wrist with one of Sara’s razors. Michael remembered the last time he tried offing himself. It was after Sara said she didn’t want to be friends with him anymore because it just hurt too much. He felt… well, he just felt downright depressed.
Michael regained consciousness in the hospital room. He was alive. He saw his uncle. Apparently, he left a Texas Rangers game to visit his nephew. Michael’s uncle’s eyes were teary and Michael couldn’t help but cry. Sara sat at the other side of the room by the door, trying her best to keep her composure. Michael held out his hand for his uncle, and it was the warmest touch that he’s ever felt. Michael hated himself. He felt he wasn’t a guy that people should really care about, but here was his uncle crying his eyes out and embracing his nephew.
“God damn you, Michael. You made my cheeks soggy as hell,” said Michael’s uncle as tears spilled down his face. Michael couldn’t speak. It hurt too much. He was glad in retrospect. He felt he should keep his mouth shut more often.
Sara sat in the chair beside Michael’s uncle. Michael grew nervous, but Sara started playing with Michael’s toes, and he started feeling more comfortable. He wanted to smile, but he was still overwhelmed with the experience that he just couldn’t. He also knew that this time he probably should stop being friends with Sara. It seemed right, he felt. He put her through too much for selfish reason.
“I’m going to be here with you, Michael. For as long as you need me. I don’t want you to do anything foolish like this again.”
Michael shook his head. He felt it was a bit too dramatic, but felt it was appropriate.
“I need professional help,” he said trying his best not to feel something about it. Sara patted his leg, and I liked it. It felt really comforting and safe in a strange way.