James woke up sore. Not the good kind, like after a workout. Just... tired. His limbs felt heavier than usual, and his head wasn't really where his body was.
He shuffled into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. The tap groaned a little, probably too early for it, too. He took a sip, then looked out the window.
Outside, some kids were playing. Kicking a ball, laughing, screaming over nothing. It felt loud, distant, alive. People passed by on the street, talking, holding hands, moving like the world made sense to them.
He watched for a while, then blinked, almost like he'd forgotten he was staring.
There was a time he used to be like that. Alive. Sane. That's what he told himself, anyway. Now he just wondered how it got like this... how it went from that to this.
A memory flashed. That one. The one that always did. Too fast to fully stop, too loud to ignore. He felt it rising like water in his chest and shoved it back down. Not now. Not today.
That moment alone reminded him "You don't belong here."
He stepped out to the balcony and sat at the table. The sky was grey, not dramatic, not moody. Just dull. Like someone forgot to turn the world on this morning.
He stared ahead. His face didn't really say anything. Not happy, not sad. Just… off like the sky above him.
Then he reached for his phone. That was the escape. The scroll, the void, the nothingness that kept him afloat. The place he could do anything.
He glanced at the lock screen.
"Oh," he mumbled. "Today's sunday... I should prolly get to church." He paused. "Oh, it's my birthday."
***
I walked into the church.
Same hallway. Same smell of cologne, plastic chairs, and whatever perfume she wears.
Some eyes flicked up. Quick glances. Maybe nothing. Maybe not.
Were they laughing? About me? Probably not. Probably just in my head again.
Still, I pulled my hoodie up a little, lowered my gaze.
I found a seat in the back, my usual spot. Thirty Sundays straight. No hellos, no small talk. No one noticed. Or maybe they did and just didn't care.
I liked it back here. It was quiet. Safe.
But sometimes, I hated it.
Sometimes I wished someone would just notice me. Say "hey." Ask if I was new even though I wasn't.
My eyes drifted to her.
She was wearing a black gown that somehow made her even more beautiful. Simple, but perfect. Her taste in fashion always stood out.. quiet, but elegant. She didn't dress to be noticed… but you couldn't not notice.
She wasn't the only one.
There was him, too. I didn't know his name… yet.
He had on a blue jean jacket, clean white shirt underneath—thick and fresh like it just left the store. Baggy jeans. Air Jordans. His hands were covered in rings, like he'd just walked out of an NBA tunnel.
He had presence. Style. Confidence. The kind I wish I had.
I wanted to talk to him. Maybe ask where he got the jacket. Or the rings. Or just say something dumb like "cool shoes."
But nah.
Everyone here seemed to know each other.
Tight circles. Inside jokes. Shared history.
I didn't wanna be the one to mess that up.
So I stayed quiet. Sat back.
And watched.
Like always.
I should probably stop staring at her before it gets weird. Too late. It's already weird I'm even thinking about her like this. I don't even know her name. Just her face. The way she dresses. The way she carries herself like life isn't chewing her up like it is me. I wish I had the guts to say something. Just once.
Shut up, I scolded myself. That's not what I came here for. This is a church, not a clubhouse.
I tried to focus. The preacher's voice echoed through the mic, something about "Your relationship with God."
Hmm. What even is mine?
I stared blankly at the ceiling.
For all I know, I might be wasting my time sitting here every Sunday, hoping to feel something. Anything. How do you even know it's real? What if all this is just baloney?
Stop it, I snapped again inside. You sound like an idiot.
Still, I wondered… if God thinks about me.
I don't really pray. Haven't read the Bible in... forever. I only liszen to gospel songs when I'm spiraling.
Does He feel ignored? .... just like me?
I don't even know how I feel about Him. God, I mean.
I wish I could feel something. Anything.
The sermon ended. People were already getting up, chatting, laughing like they just got off a phone call with Jesus himself. I stood up slowly, same way I always do—quiet, unnoticed.
Then I saw her. Not her—not the girl I'd been thinking about.
A different one. Cute. Confident. She walked right up to me.
"Hey," she said, like we were already friends. "Can I get your number?"
Wait... me?
I blinked like a glitching NPC.
"Uh… sure" I said, trying to sound like a human.
Finally. Someone I could talk to. Or better yet… someone I could text and avoid talking altogether. This had to be God. No way this just… happens.
I gave her my number. Smiled. Nodded. Pretended this was normal. Walked out, floating slightly, like maybe my life was finally going to pivot.
On my way back to my apartment, my phone rang.
Dad.
"Good afternoon, sir," I answered.
"Happy birthday, son. I'll send you some money.. buy yourself something."
"Thank you sir" I replied.
"I'm sure your mother would be so proud."
Click. End call.
A couple of family members called me too. The same thing "She'd be proud." It's nice, I guess. But I don't know why I suddenly felt like shit. Maybe it's the fact that no one's actually here. No one to blur it out. No one to hug. No voices. Just me. Again.
Whatever. I still have my online self.
I could text the guys. Hop on a group chat. Laugh at memes. Pretend I'm okay. And I hope that girl texts soon.
My friends...
How did I even meet them? I don't remember. I remember usernames. Group chats. Maybe a few profile pictures.
But the real moments, Laughter echoing in a room, Eye contact.. they're nothing but blurry images I choose to hang on to.
This version of me. My stupid self. And it's not even that I hate myself. I just... don't recognize him. This ugly thing I turned into.
What happened back then?
It felt like I was being haunted. Not by ghosts, but by... moments. Small ones. Stuff that didn't feel wrong until years later.
And the older I got, the heavier it felt. Like I was wearing my past like a hoodie I couldn't take off. Just got heavier, tighter. Until it swallowed me.
A different room flickered into my head.
Dim. Warm-toned. The kind of lighting that should feel safe. But it didn't.
"God isn't watching."
Her voice tuned into my brain. I was five again. Sitting on the floor.
Legs crossed. Arms locked. Quiet.
Because that's what she told me to be.
She was older. Taller. Smarter. She smiled like nothing was wrong. Like it was a game. Like we were just playing.
But it wasn't a game. It wasn't innocent. And I knew that now. I'd always known. Even if I tried to forget.
The smell of that room. The blanket on the floor. The cartoon still playing on the TV. My heart hammering even though I didn't understand why.
"You promised," she whispered again, leaning in.
"You said you wouldn't tell."
And I didn't.
I squeezed my phone tight, hand shaking.
The church felt a thousand miles away now. The world suddenly too bright, too loud.
I walked faster.
Down the street. Up the stairs. Into my apartment.
Locked the door.
Sat in the dark.
I picked up my phone. A single notification stared back at me.. an unknown number. Great.
Why do people have to be so damn dramatic? "I know what happened that night."
I froze.
Then I snapped out of it. Delete. Block. Clear. Erase. Gone. Every single trace of that message, like it never existed.
"Ah, hell no" I muttered.
I opened YouTube and watched some shorts.