I`ve Never Felt So Alone
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I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life. I mean, I am always on my own… but there’s no way around that. this is the first time that I actually feel like nobody understands me at all! I’m lonely! I want to have someone to talk to about stuff. it would be nice not having people misunderstand things every single fucking day!!!”
she was shrieking now and I watched her contort her face into various expressions as she emoted wildly with wild cries of anger or sadness or joy. It was an incredibly cute sight and I wanted to snuggle up to her, cuddle her head against my shoulder… something… anything. I needed that comfort so desperately after weeks of being isolated from others due to my father’s paranoia toward strangers.
She looked over at me again just before she sank down onto the ground. “You’re right.” She smiled tiredly back at me.
“What?” I asked and sat beside her instead of reaching out for a hug which would probably make her even more uncomfortable.
She ran her hand through her hair softly and sighed deeply. “I should stop thinking things are going to change if only we were closer.” She stood up slowly and stretched. “Right now, we don’t know how to help each other because you know everything while I barely know anything—” she suddenly froze when she noticed my curious expression, “… oh fxxk!”
Her voice started getting deeper until it became almost unrecognizable. After a few minutes, she relaxed enough to speak normally. “I should really try and stop doing that…”
“Doing what?” I asked carefully.
Her eyes glazed over momentarily then brightened and she turned away from me in embarrassment. “Talking to myself without anyone else hearing it.” She giggled and waved her hands excitedly like there was nothing unusual about her strange behavior.
We both laughed lightly together before finally sitting up properly again. We still had a lot of talking and walking to do since we didn’t seem to want to abandon our goal of making it home today.
For several hours we walked through the woods. I usually spent most of my time staring absentmindedly at the trees or rocks around us, occasionally listening to Ingrid describe some interesting facts about plants growing in the area.
Other than that, I did learn quite a bit and made sure my curiosity was satisfied by asking questions when they arose. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep in her lap as she stroked my hair gently and hummed lullabies softly into my ear.
***
That night while lying in bed again next to Ingrid who was sound asleep, my mind started racing as usual.
Hearing your name on repeat can drive one insane and in my case, I’d reached insanity level. First, it’s ‘Inger’, then it’s ‘Ingrid’. Then again, it’s ‘Ingrida’ and once I came across another possible variation of her last name, ‘Niedermayer’.
While I couldn’t remember ever hearing anything else other than these names being said to me during my childhood, I found them vaguely familiar in a vague way. The longer I thought about them, the less they seemed connected to me personally though. They just sounded too foreign to have been uttered by any person I knew.
This realization drove me further into my already heavy thoughts. At least if the woman I saw calling herself Inger did live here with my dad, that meant I would eventually meet her again. Meeting Ingrid wouldn’t necessarily make sense, but at least it meant seeing a familiar face sooner rather than later. That would prove to be very useful, I reasoned.
On the flip side, however, I could easily get lost forever trying to find her among the many women around here named Ingrid. In fact, searching for her specifically might cause me to walk all the way into the city looking for her house or farm or whatever.
More likely I would simply go crazy and end up living on the streets indefinitely or running away altogether in hopes to escape this madness. Both possibilities held a high chance of ending in failure, as far as I could tell.
Besides, I didn’t see the point in all this worry anyway. Sure I wanted to meet Ingrid once I managed to get outside and figure out what to do, but meeting her tomorrow was hardly worth thinking about. Besides, there were plenty of other issues to focus my attention upon.
What would happen if I ended up staying on the run from my parents for years? How would I survive that much solitude and loneliness?! And why was this whole situation happening to begin in the first place?!
And what the hell was up with me dreaming about my sister that often?! Why did the dreams continue to plague me constantly like it was a curse that would never go away?! All those horrible memories from the past seemed to pop up regularly and wreak havoc whenever I was stressed beyond belief. Of course, I wasn’t completely convinced that this nightmare was even a dream in the first place anymore after recent events…
“Hey you,” someone whispered harshly into my ear, “wake up, please! You need to wake up soon. Can’t keep sleeping, you know?” A soothing warmth spread throughout my body and calmed me enough to open my eyes.
My vision shifted automatically as the blurry darkness behind my eyelids cleared. At least, something was more clear now. My surroundings looked dark, but there were hints of light filtering through nearby trees that allowed me to make out vague shadows. Judging by the position of the sun rising above the eastern horizon, it must’ve been late evening judging by how low the sky was.
The voice was still whispering into my ears, so I flinched reflexively until it suddenly disappeared with a sharp inhale and coughing sound. I felt bad for not realizing straight away that the soft hand grasping mine belonged to the beautiful blonde-haired girl standing beside me.
In hindsight, it probably would’ve been wise to turn around and look at whoever dared sneak up to me during the middle of the night. I’m a nice guy though, right? So I remained calm and decided to wait for them to come closer before I’d question them and try to determine if this stranger was a friend, foe, or anything in between.
“Sorry. Not used to having anyone creeping up on me like this. What are you doing here anyway?” I asked while taking the opportunity of silence to check out my mysterious visitor. It seemed to be a female but the lack of a full view prevented me from drawing a concrete conclusion.
She wore a black shirt which covered everything save for her left shoulder and a pair of jeans. Her hair was down, tied neatly to her long torso using two braided ropes. On top of that, she also had a small backpack over her shoulders.
I got the impression that our new acquaintance didn’t intend to talk for quite some time, so I continued trying to analyze her looks instead. My visitor was certainly tall but well proportioned. Maybe five foot eight, maybe slightly taller.
But aside from that, I couldn’t really decide whether her slender physique and modest curves resembled my sister’s build or my mom’s. She stood completely silent next to me but I kept staring intently at her pale skin, seemingly free from any blemishes or scars of any kind.
And then I realized that her hair actually matched my own perfectly!
“Ingrid!” I gasped surprised, “Holy crap, is this really you?!”
A goofy grin took over my face as I came closer to our table and sat down. The instant my back hit the chair, a blast of cold air rushed across my shoulders, almost knocking me off balance. I quickly reached for the backpack and pulled it onto my lap, immediately starting to dig inside to get the rest of the things I needed before the freezing breeze resumed its attack.
I found my warm coat and wrapped it around my shoulders, wondering if I should’ve brought a hat or gloves too. With these thoughts still racing through my head, I turned my attention to the mystery person sitting opposite me.
“Hi there.” I greeted her politely, “Who exactly are you anyway?”
Our guest remained quiet, giving no answer to my greeting or anything else for that matter. If I guessed correctly, she might have just arrived, considering where we were. Considering the fact that our voices echoed around us and were easily audible outside the circle of trees, it would also mean that she didn’t want to tell anyone her name yet.
She had to be new or at least fairly recently arrived. Seeing how there weren’t many people who would choose to stay in such an isolated forest unless they had good reason not to leave. Thinking about it that way, maybe I could use this situation to ask her if she knew the whereabouts of Ingrid. The only problem was: why did she show up tonight of all nights? No, better questions begged to be answered first.
I put my backpack aside and looked back over at our intruder in hopes of seeing her expression change when she heard my question. Did I sound weird to her? Who knows. This whole thing was getting surreal already. As my gaze shifted towards her features again I realized the most peculiar thing. Our mysterious lady wasn’t wearing glasses! Hadn’t seen them last time either, which meant…
“Did your eyesight improve since we met? Because if it did, that would be great news…” I started, struggling to contain my curiosity. I wanted to hear about this development!
I’m sure it’s only natural that she didn’t believe my words. And of course, she wouldn’t say it aloud as well. That would defeat the purpose of keeping everyone in the dark. But it would still be interesting to find out what she thought about the idea of my improving sight.
Thankfully, after several seconds passed without an answer I gave up and asked another question instead. Only to be followed by a few more later on once the excitement died down a bit. After almost a full minute of continuous questioning, she finally opened her mouth to respond. But unfortunately, her response made no sense to me at all.
“…if I can see you better now.” She said slowly, as if unsure of her exact meaning, “then what did you mean earlier by asking me ‘who am I’?”
***
There was no trace of sarcasm in the comment whatsoever. So what exactly does this woman think we’re talking about here? Well, if it helps any I’ll clarify the actual discussion with Ingrid right away. It probably won’t help though; at this point, it’s clear that neither one of us is capable of understanding the other.
And if both of us don’t understand each other then we’d have even bigger problems than imagined. Which makes it hard to work out ways to solve these issues. Especially since I don’t know which of us would agree on certain points.
Speaking of working out solutions… what are my plans from here? How do I proceed in solving this mess I apparently created without compromising my original plan? Is there any chance my ideas are flawed somewhere?
What if they turn out wrong? I guess those questions will remain unanswered until I confront Ingrid in person if that’s actually even possible anymore. If she wants to be stubborn, nobody can stop her. Not even me. And while I struggle with my worries in order to figure out what to do next, our guest started talking again.
“…we’ve met before, haven’t we? I mean, your friend’s mother seems to remember me as well…”
This new revelation made me freeze up for a moment. Where had I ever met someone like this before? I couldn’t recall it happening personally but I wondered if I had mentioned something along the lines of it being impossible to forget you. Or maybe I hadn’t said anything at all; my memory never fails me. And if so, it’s weird that she has a better recollection of our past meeting than I do.
The image of our first encounter kept playing in my head. We had been passing through town during our nightly strolls at the time. The events transpired quite differently from the current circumstances. Back then everything had seemed pretty normal to begin with. So why should this situation be different?
What was even stranger were these conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I felt guilty for creating some sort of chaos when there shouldn’t have been any. But on the other, I didn’t regret doing what I did at all.
And seeing as I was currently trapped in the middle of the woods without having come into contact with anyone, I didn’t feel especially bad right now either. It really felt odd to experience both contradictory feelings simultaneously. I tried to imagine myself living in a world where neither emotion existed.
A life in which I only cared about myself and nothing else mattered at all. While being able to have absolute control over every outcome imaginable. Sounds easy enough, doesn’t it?
It might look that way on paper but it isn’t. Anyone who thinks they know their own mind best ends up being manipulated by others at the end of the day. This applies to people with strong egos just as much as it does to weaker ones. Personally, I’m not convinced that the latter deserves pity. I guess that could depend entirely on how you define yourself as a person.
On top of dealing with all of that, I still had to prepare a meal for myself. Thankfully I wasn’t very hungry yet today so cooking in my room would suffice. Cooking indoors required far less effort than outdoors, which helped keep me focused.
Even though I was still angry about it, the kitchen took up too much space inside the forest for me to consider setting it up outside. So that meant I had to improvise. I decided against making a fire because there wouldn’t be enough wood around for my liking.
I thought about building a small furnace using rocks, which was also a viable option. However, I soon realized I didn’t have any dry plants lying around anymore. Furthermore, I hadn’t brought any tools with me when leaving the city. Also, the sun was starting to set fast so I decided against waiting for nightfall in favor of lighting a simple fire.
So I went back upstairs and fetched the box I had brought along with me, hoping it still contained some kindling. By now I was thoroughly familiar with this particular object so opening it became as easy as flipping a switch. Unfortunately, the only thing inside came spilling out onto the floor.
At least that was the case when I picked it up afterward. When I first put them in the storage compartment of this contraption, each little stick fit perfectly alongside its counterpart. Now, however, one of them always remained loose. It looked completely useless now.
In hindsight, it was probably a good idea to bring the box along to start with. These sticks weren’t particularly high-quality wood but a single pack should have sufficed for most tasks. Instead, I had purchased multiple boxes at once thinking that such an investment would prove worthwhile in the future.
This clearly wasn’t the case; I should have known better after experiencing all the downsides that resulted from that decision.
After moving some furniture aside in order to make sufficient space for the fireplace I lit the flames and placed the firewood within reach of the heat. At first, it seemed that the wood would burn quickly and efficiently enough, but that turned out not to be the case.
As I waited patiently for it to catch fire, I studied the way the smoke drifted upwards instead. What started off looking like tiny clouds quickly turned into a thick column of grey mist. It spread throughout the room in seconds before coming to rest somewhere beyond my peripheral vision.
Something I knew full well was bound to cause trouble later on. But now wasn’t the time to worry about it, so I refocused my attention on the fire.
Soon after, the fire finally caught and the smoke began turning blue. Once again, I was surprised by the ease and speed with which I had managed this feat. Fire spells require time to grow, meaning they don’t work nearly as effectively in practice as they do in theory.
That may sound like a paradoxical statement since we’re talking about magic here. But it is precisely because of how hard the spell makes things seem at first glance that it looks more impressive when successfully cast. I don’t doubt for a second that such an obvious paradox will spark controversy among scholars.
If pressed I’d say that it’s exactly because magic seems so impossible that it feels so incredible when used effectively. This is why I find such debates pointless. The answer lies in the eye of the beholder.
My experiment with fire couldn’t continue forever though, considering that eventually, I wanted to actually cook something. I went down to check if the fish had dried enough while continuing to light my improvised stove. After checking whether the temperature in the room was high enough I noticed that the water level was slightly low.
In other words, I was still able to fill up some containers with fresh water from the basin without having to go through that process again. Well, at least this way I could spare myself the need to carry all those heavy buckets downstairs. Of course, filling up the bathtub would take the same amount of effort either way.
By then I already felt hungry and annoyed so I decided to call the whole experiment off. My frustration stemmed from having wasted all these resources and energy just to figure out that my methods were inefficient. Also, my plans for lunch would now consist purely of sandwiches or bread.
And even that might not happen now seeing that both options would end up being rather messy to eat due to the fire and smoke that lingered in the air. Luckily, I still had the ingredients I needed to throw together a proper meal. They lay right next to the oven beneath several layers of parchment.
When I got back up there I immediately discarded the plan of roasting whatever meat I had left over. Smoked salmon was a great substitute for actual food and easier to handle at that. So I gathered everything else necessary and took a seat on the sofa, eager to try cooking something new.
I filled the pot half-full with water before placing it on the stove, careful not to let it boil dry. I didn’t know what kind of cutlery I had available, apart from knives and forks, so I opted to use my hands instead. There are many advantages to eating with your fingers: you can taste every ingredient, pick it out individually, and avoid the risk of burning yourself.