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People say that being considerate is a positive trait, a quality that most would praise one for having and scolding those with empty hands.
But, as with many things in this cruel world, too much of one thing can cause the deepest devastation.
Kaveh stares down into his own eyes from his drink, noting the weariness etching the corners of his eyes. He’s not tired — not physically at least, however his eyes look otherwise, drooping low as if even his body is too tired to support the weight of it all.
You might wonder what this weight is. The guilt of his fathers death? The stress of his almost empty wallet? The truth is, Kaveh doesn’t know.
The guilt of his fathers death has been haunting him for more than his life than it hasn’t. Sure, grief can strike whenever but the heavy feeling residing in Kaveh’s chest isn’t just the familiar burden of guilt. It’s something deeper, something more rooted, like the Divine Tree with its roots dominating the underground.
He doesn’t know why this heaviness is here. When has he ever known why? Since he was a child, he’s been too perceptive. It was only when his father died, did he truly reflect on the meaning of existence and question the world around him.
Why do we die? They say that “good things all come to an end” and to “live in the moment”. But how can one do that with the belief that one day, once the heart’s batteries fade and die out, the memories of this life will disappear? All the memories, all the people and all the experience forgotten, just like the existence of said person in a century.
Death is something he has long come to terms with. He doesn’t actively seek death, and he’s stopped questioning the never ending possibilities of what lies after. But sometimes he thinks to himself, what if he was to disappear? Yes, obviously there’s the burden to his close ones of his departure as one can never truly leave without a trace being left behind.
But he feels so emotionless sometimes. Like he just wants to leave everything behind, including his empathy. Sometimes he just sits in his room, staring at whatever miscellaneous item is propped on his shelf, or the blueprints in front of him, and he feels the pull of the void in his chest.
The hollow, sinking feeling. It prickles the ribs in a way it feels like a knife is tickling it. Just sitting there, alone, save for the tormenting feeling, staring blankly as he wonders what he’s doing in this life, what he’s supposed to do, and if he’s doing it right.
Some days the feeling weighs him down so much that as soon as he opens his eyes that morning, he wants to cry. He wants to cry, and scream and wants to stay in bed forever. But he knows that’s not possible, because otherwise people will ask, and he’ll disappoint them with either his horrible lie or his own confusion.
He can vividly recall this one week last month, around the time when the heaviness started to shadow his every move, where he felt so tired. Although, he still went to meetings and did his drawing, because once he got out of bed, everything was almost mechanical.
Back then he didn’t want to cry or scream. He was simply just tired. He couldn’t even change the way his eyebrows were knitted downwards or the way his whole face had dropped. Talking was mechanical too. If you were to read a transcript of all his conversations with the clients and friends he met up with, you’d think it was normal. Cracking jokes, answering fully and continuing conversations when they had started to die.
All normal. But in person, it was different, and even he knew it himself. He could hear it in the monotonous low vibrations of his voice: a robot delivering the speech of a man who wasn’t there mentally. He doesn’t think he even smiled at all during those days, not at his own jokes, not at his friends’ jokes either.
That was when he truly felt like a dead man walking.
And the reason why? No idea.
This heaviness came on one day and left an indelible mark on his soul. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have some tragic sob story about why his mood plummeted or why his actions grew sluggish. The only words to describe it is that it came out of nowhere one day on what he thought was a typical bad day, but it has stayed and lingered for nearly a month, which is highly unusual.
So he feels like a fool. What kind of person gets a random burden dumped on their heart, so much to the point that it affects their daily life and consumes their thoughts? It’s such a ridiculous thing to say.
Which is why he doesn’t.
He knows he can. Alhaitham, Tighnari and Cyno already know somewhat about his struggles but not the full picture of them. He told them because he doesn’t want to be some burden that they are forced to deal with, so he knew that offering an explanation for some of his behaviours was necessary.
But he can’t tell them everything. Not because he isn’t comfortable with them knowing. It’s not the fear of judgement, not even from Alhaitham, that forces him to swallow his secrets. It’s none of their faults even.
It’s him. He’s scared of them lying, he’s afraid of the forced existence he’d feel he has with them. Once he tells them, they will not go back to the original bond they had. And he is much too fond of this blissful bond they hold with each other to be the first to let go and introduce a new one.
This is his fear.
He tells them everything about the heaviness, the self destruction and the almost constant fatigue.
They are sympathetic. (How else are they supposed to react? They can only react like this. So what if it’s fake?)
They offer their support. (What if he becomes a burden to them and they don’t feel comfortable telling him that he’s draining too much of their mental faculties?)
Do you see it now? How it can all be fake. Because what else are you supposed to do in that situation? It’s not exactly like you can tell them to shut up or to tell them that they’re draining the everlasting shit out of you.
It’ll always be the same reaction and responses. So there’s no way to differentiate honesty and masked resentment. They won’t feel comfortable telling him if he’s being too much. And there’s the awkward bond that’ll replace their thriving current one. And Kaveh isn’t willing to let it go.
And everyone has their own issues. Seeing Kaveh’s depressed nature, they won’t feel comfortable sharing their issues because they know that he’s struggling too. But he doesn’t want that wall between him and his friends. But the wall is inevitable. He knows it’ll be there like an unspoken rule.
It’s not their fault for the wall. It’s a natural human response, which is why, as long as it exists, it’ll be there. Hence why Kaveh cannot tell them.
It’s not like he’s sad all the time; most of the time he does truly feel the joy in his laugh and the pull of his smile. But other times it feels like a stranger’s face overlapping his. As long as he can keep up the charade, he won’t need to spill his woes.
As much as he wants to, he cannot. That’s the downfall of being too considerate. If he tells them, then it’s over for their friendship, and their communication. He’ll be in a constant state of paranoia, that they’re lying to him, that they are sick of him.
And that’d be a lot worse than the heaviness.
He stares back up from his drink. He hasn’t even taken a sip.
Standing up, he crashes his knee against the table, and the drink teeters then spills slightly, staining the table deep red.
Kaveh smiles a strained smile.
Precisely. That’s precisely what will happen. He’ll be the one spilling one day.
Whether that’s in a week or on his deathbed he doesn’t know.
When has he ever known?
.