"Please, just let me finish."
Her mother's mouth opened, as if to refuse, but across her face flitted suspicion chased by resolve and she shut it.
"It's not okay." Alya's voice shook. "I'm not okay. I need help, okay? I need—"
"What do you need help with?" Her mother interjected.
Alya's voice crackled to a halt. "I..." What would be the name for it? What... what is it? It's just... suffering. Empty suffering. "I don't know. I just need to work through it, I think. Maybe—"
"If you don't even know what it is, why would you need help?" Her mother was genuinely perplexed but it was as if she'd punched Alya in the gut.
Because I'm falling apart. "Just.... Just believe me. Please."
"Alya, I don't even know what we're talking about here. How am I supposed to believe you?"
Tears flooded Alya's eyes as panic flooded her. No. No no no. Not now. Not--No, I need... "Mom, Mom, just listen. Please. I can't keep... I can't keep trying to have to consciously breathe. I just want to know that this isn't normal. It can't be normal. You can't just say that everything's alright just because we don't understand. I don't... I don't know what's wrong but this can't be right. If it's right then why am I the only weak one? Why-why—" Her voice gave out as a sob burst from her, her knees shaking briefly before trying to deposit her onto the floor.
Thankfully, Alya managed to remain upright, albeit with a struggle and reaching for her mother, who stumbled back abruptly, as if afraid to touch her daughter.
"What do you want me to do?" The mother asked, her face almost trying not to close off to her daughter.
"Just help me get help. And stop telling me that I'm okay when I'm not."
Alya's fragile whisper hung between them for a long moment as tear-filled eyes met fearful ones. Fearful. As if Alya—who was nearly on the floor sobbing—was to be feared.
"I'll try my best."
***
HOW DARE YOU, Ethan Jewell
Estimated Time of Memory: Not a Memory
Genre: Pop
Potential Triggers: Depression, Tone of Giving Up,
Favorite Lyric: "How dare you expect me to float in the clouds when I can't even solve my own rain storms? How can I express to you what I'm feeling when it doesn't feel like I can write anymore. I'm so lost in my head, I don't know myself anymore. I'm slowly folding and cracking. I don't think I can take this anymore. How dare you?"