Under the Surface

by Diana Urban

There’s only so much you can buoy someone else up if you have no life raft of your own.

Bones. That’s all any of us are in the end. A pile of bones.” My lower lip quivers. Every friendship, every love, everything we’ve ever looked forward to—it all comes crashing down, and then we die, and that’s it. All for nothing. “God, what’s even the point?”

In these halls, those who are forgotten protect those who have forgotten.”

I don’t even know why I’m surprised. Everyone always leaves me, one way or another.

Anyone I trust betrays me. Any mistake I make, they give up on me.

“I don’t—” I start reflexively, but it’d be weird to say I don’t love people. That’s not even true. It’s more that I don’t like who I become around other people—uneasy, afraid to say or do the wrong thing and embarrass myself. It’s rare to find people I’m truly comfortable with.

You don’t get to pick and choose what’s real.

“Well, I’m sad,” says Val. “All the time. You know how many times my parents have made me switch schools? Seven times. Seven. You know how hard it is to start over seven different times? To make friends and have to say goodbye, over and over again? Everyone always promises to keep in touch and DM you and stuff, but no one ever does.”

That’s all so many of us want in the end, to leave some mark on this world.

We’re our choices, our bravery, our sacrifices. We’re forgiveness and strength and the tears we’ve shed. We’re the friendships we’ve built and the love we’ve shared. Time might go on without us and our cells might wither to dust, but that doesn’t diminish our existence. We all leave a mark on this world.