The Infinite Noise (The Bright Sessions, #1)

by Lauren Shippen

“Yeah, because feeling people’s emotions is so useful,”

Adam seems to actually be enjoying himself for once. Normally he’s so sad. Like, really sad in a way that I can’t begin to understand. Sad in a way that sometimes stays with me all day, even when I leave school and everyone else’s feelings wear off.

Oh. Right. I have my own feelings. I sort of forgot about those. Honestly, I’d like to keep forgetting about them.

you are not the only—as you put it—‘depressed gay kid’ in the world.

We don’t always have to love ourselves in order to receive love from others. Sometimes that’s how we learn to love ourselves.”

Maybe if I stay in bed long enough, I’ll just cease to exist.

“Okay, yeah, see you there,” I say, feeling off-balance by the whole exchange, but not hating it.

“It’s like … when I’m around him, whatever he’s feeling just sort of settles into me and sits there. Next to my own feelings. Like, his sadness, or whatever, becomes my sadness.”

felt more at peace watching Adam fiddle with his watch and avoid my eyes than I do anywhere else in school.

This is going to be fun. This is not fun.

I’m psyching myself up in my head, convincing myself that, no matter what, I’m going to be there for Caleb because I care about him regardless of any other feelings I might have,

Me Friday/Sunday ahahaha

He’s in pain and I want to hold him, comfort him, tell him it’s all right, but I can’t. I don’t know why he’s hurting and so I can’t make it better. I feel totally powerless.

It’s now been two days without talking to Caleb and I’m starting to lose it a little. I hadn’t realized how dependent I’d become on Caleb—on our lunches, our texting, me sending him music and him not understanding half of it. He didn’t make things better, necessarily—he didn’t chase away the clouds when they loomed heavy and dark over me—but he did make it easier to ignore the impending storm. Caleb makes me feel clever. He makes me feel interesting.

I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more. Oh. Oh.

I can’t tell him that I was thinking about leaping across the table and kissing him but I need to say something to explain why I’ve been—I’m assuming—staring at him, open-mouthed and blank, for the last few seconds.

Robotics meet after sleepover oop

I realize that I’m not strong enough to break the string, even if I wanted to.

I can’t say that. I know I can’t tell him the truth. Because that’s not how we work as a society. We don’t have the liberty of telling each other, “Hey, I’m having a depressive episode so I’m sorry for being distant or weird or useless or making myself bleed. I wish I could say that this is a one-time thing and will never happen again, but it isn’t and it will. I don’t want to be around you right now or during those times at all, but I would love if you took care of me and sat silently in the corner of the room for when I need someone to hug me. You will get nothing in return except for maybe my friendship when the cloud lifts and I can be human for two seconds. Hope that’s all good with you!”

I have a new nightly ritual. I lie on my bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about Adam. I’m pathetic.

Reading over the texts, my heart does that stupid thing again where it spasms and it sort of hurts but it also makes me feel energized and nervous, like the way I feel before a big game. Are we flirting? Is that what’s happening? I think I might be.

All empath stuff aside, I know who Adam is. And that makes me feel like more of a superhero than anything.

What in the hell am I supposed to do with that?

The problem with my head taking a much-needed vacation is that I’m stuck with a heart that wants so much and no executive functioning left to act for it.

“He is a nice young man,” I echo, trying to find my words. “He is very nice. And … a man.”

“Hon, it’s okay.” She smiles. “Relax. This doesn’t have to be a big conversation if you don’t want it to be. But I’m also happy to do the loud and proud coming-out thing if that’s what you want—” “Jeez, Mom, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m not—” I stop, realizing that what I was about to say isn’t true. “Well, I mean, I guess I know what I’m not. I’m not straight. I guess. I mean, I like Adam. And that’s good. So. Yeah.”

“I care about you so much and I didn’t want to make your life more complicated or make things harder for you so I guess I just … I shut you out.”