Someone Else
You walked into the room, and it was all wrong. You checked your phone, pulled up a text message, noticed that you had forgotten to reply to someone who texted you earlier.
Someone else's voice crackled over the speakerphone with an announcement of impending doom. It was like déjà vu: The sounds were familiar but out of context — a song from school, or maybe from TV? Someone else's smile seemed forced as they tried to make polite conversation and introduce you to everyone in the room. You didn't care about their life stories; they weren't anything like you thought they were when they said hello. They would never understand what it felt like to be in your shoes.
After your meal, you looked around, realized that everyone seemed to be moving toward another room. You hoped that they weren't all headed over there to smoke again — it's not like they didn't know how much you hated it — but after a while, the music started again and someone put on a movie. You could see everyone sitting on the floor and everyone else moving over; you could hear laughter and talk, but there was no one who made eye contact with you.
You tried to leave and couldn't find the exit. No one even looked up as you walked past them. You were running around in circles, trying to find the exit and get back to your room. You were jostled around by people, who shouted obscenities at you as they passed you by their friends.
You felt an arm on your shoulder and looked up: it was one of the counselors who tried to talk to you on the way in. "Let's go." she said with a smile, but it didn't look like she was too happy about it. "We need to talk. I'm sorry about this."
You wanted to tell her that it was okay, but you didn't know what she was talking about. You just wanted to go back to your room, because if you went back to your room, then everything would be okay.
But when she led you into the room next door, it wasn't there.
It was a place that looked like your bedroom: same bedspread and wall decorations and old books on the shelves, but when you turned around there were people behind you. It was the same people who had been in the other room: They all looked at you with sad eyes and folded hands and just stood there waiting for something to happen.
This was like déjà vu all over again: You were walking down the hallway with some of your other friends, who had already started talking about how they were going to vote for the best song. You could see the room you wanted to go into, and it looked so much better than this big space with people standing around in it. You passed a bunch of people, who just nodded at you and said hi as you walked by.
You walked into the other room, and it smelled like food. It was like a cafeteria or a high school lunchroom: There were tables and seats lined up along the walls. Everyone passed by and smiled at you, but you didn't know any of them.
You heard someone say: "Just keep passing the plate or whatever." You turned around and saw that it was like a buffet: there were food trays set up along the walls, and everyone was passing it by.
"Can I have some cookies?" you asked the girl who was in front of you at the trays. She looked annoyed, and she looked like she wanted to punch you in the face, but she just said: "Here — go on." She held a box of cookies out for you to take, so that everyone could see that she cared about what happened to you.
You looked at the box of cookies, and then you smiled from ear to ear. It was so much better than you expected. You took one cookie and said "Thanks!" as you took a bite.
The girl who had handed them out, who was also standing in front of a tray, stood there waiting for something else to happen. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she didn't have any more cookies to give away.
"Can I have more?" you asked, and the girl sighed. She took another cookie off of the tray and set it in front of you. You smiled at her again and thanked her for the cookies — she looked like she was about to cry, but she didn't say anything.
You continued to pass around the food trays, eating them all: It was so much better than your room or this big open space with people standing around in it. And even if the other place wasn't what you thought it was going to be… even if nothing else seemed to change, at least you had all these cookies.
After you had eaten, you stepped outside and looked around. Everyone else was just standing there looking at the sunset, and so were you. Even though it all seemed different… now that you had experienced the other place, now that you had experienced this place…
You walked back into the cafeteria, and everyone was sitting down to talk or play cards or whatever. When someone asked what was going on with your room, what happened to the other place… you told them about it.
It felt good: You could see your friends smiling and nodding, like they understood. You could see their eyes — like the other place — growing wide with recognition.
"It is so much better than this place," you said, and everyone agreed with you. It was nice to hear someone say that it was nice too; not everyone was happy that you had escaped from the cafeteria, where people were still talking about what "happened." They didn't really seem to think that it was a big deal at all.
You awoke in the common room of your dormitory, somewhat confused because you couldn't remember what happened after you ate cookies, but it seemed like everyone had a pretty solid grasp on things now. People were whispering about how someone needed to get the counselors and tell them about everything. It sounded like everyone agreed about what happened, even if they didn't remember it themselves.
You could hear someone say: "It's time for us to go back again." And you could see that other people felt the same way as you did: People who smiled at you and said hi as you walked by when you went to visit. People who were waiting for other people to do something — that everyone seemed more than happy to wait for — so that they could finally do something together.
Conclusion
This is a story about a phenomenon that I have observed among many friends and associates. It may be an urban legend, but it keeps coming up again and again: The idea that there is some place better than the world that we live in, and if you can just get there then everything will be okay.
It's not about suicide or death: It's about something more abstract than that, though it may have its roots in religious fundamentalism as much as any other belief system. Some people associate this phenomenon with schizophrenia or other mental illnesses.
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Someone Else