September 16th 2626

I knew I had to eat. I knew it wasn't good to deprive myself of nutrients. My appetite, however, was nonexistent. For the past few days, the only things I could eat were crackers and some oranges I had lying around randomly on my study table.

Knowing my predicament, Tony had very kindly tried to make smoothie for me but, not to sound ungrateful for his attempt at making sure I didn't starve, it tasted like vomit. I wondered how he could stomach that godawful concoction every morning before his basketball practice.

I talked to Gibran about my grades and my anxiety about not being worthy enough of literally having a piece of someone else inside of me. Wait, what a weird phrasing. I meant being a recipient of somebody's lungs. Somebody died so that I lived and that was unfair, was it now?

Gibran's reaction left me with a lot to ponder. He believed that instead of feeling I had to live my life in such a way to honor Lee, I just needed to be mindful that the best thing I could do would be to keep on being me. At first I recoiled at this suggestion. Being me? Being a pathetic person?

"You're not pathetic, Nardho," Gibran had said. "The very fact that you get anxious over carrying your late advisor's legacy means you're a good person. If you were a bad person you wouldn't care at all."

Hearing him adamantly telling me that I wasn't bad was supposed to calm me down, right? Wrong. My stubborn brain went to the conclusion that if I were bad then it would be easier for me to cope with everything. If I were bad, I wouldn't have to deal with loss of appetite, sleeplessness, and other side effects of grief.

"Gibran, is being a good person a curse?" I had asked. I had expected the professor to laugh at my question or to usher me out of his office, but he just smiled and told me to bring up this topic to a philosophy major instead. He even suggested that I might actually be happier studying philosophy.

"What if it suffocates me even more and I can't break free from this chrysalis of misery?" I was hesitant to share my trepidation but since I was already being vulnerable I might as well be real with him.

"That's not true. Just like talking about atheism will not automatically make you an atheist, asking philosophical stuff will not necessarily make you a nihilist."

"I'm afraid if I keep digging for answers to my questions I'll go insane. Even now, Gibran, I feel as if I'm holding on to the last sliver of my sanity."

"It's your choice," he said quietly. "From what I've observed, however, you seem the type to be deriving a sense of pleasure from decoding meaning in intangible things."

"What do you mean? I'm not a manic pixie kind of guy, if that's what you're implying."

"You're not, but you seem to be hungry for wisdom. Your question about whether being good was a curse is an indication that you're an abstract thinker."

"So, should I give up trying to be a biochemist?" My frustration rose and I had to remind myself to stay polite.

"Again, that's your choice. You're the only one who knows why you wanted to be a biochemist."

Leaving his office, I felt worse than I did before our lengthy conversation. Truth be told, I picked my major on a whim. Save for my mom who studied archeology, everyone in my family was into science and I thought being a scientist would be a path I inevitably thread on. I neither hated nor loved science, it was just another subject I excelled in--until this semester from hell wrecked me.

Philosophers I had read about always waxed eloquent about 'knowing thyself' and I used to scoff at such empty truism, but today I found myself searching for an answer to the millennia-old inquiry.

----

I texted Moira to meet me in Giant Burger Shack again because I wanted to ask her why she chose her major, which was the same as mine. She responded quickly, saying that she wasn't in a mood for burgers. Well, neither was I, but that place was a convenient hangout spot.

What if I treat you to bubble tea? She texted back. Maybe it can turn you bubbly.

That's not how it works, honey.

Hey, don't knock it until you try it! You barely eat anything these days, might as well get some sugar.

Okay, but if I throw up don't say I didn't warn you. Where's this shop, anyway?

It's not that far from the botanical garden. Just meet me at the bus stop in front of the Student Union.

Moira was already at the bus stop several minutes before I got there. She was wearing a hoodie. Wait, wasn't that mine?

"Honey, when did you find the time to steal that?" I gestured to what she wore.

"It's not stealing, it's borrowing!" She stuck her tongue out and I pinched her cheek.

"Do you like my clothes that much? It's too big for you, though."

"I don't care. You've been unavailable far too often the past couple weeks and I miss you and--" She trailed off.

"And?" I prompted.

"And this hoodie smells of your cologne."

"I don't wear cologne." I said, confused.

"Oh well, then what is it?"

"Detergent?" I shrugged. "Either that, fabric softener, or the dryer sheet."

"Doesn't matter," she retorted. "The point is I need to have you here."

"Well, I'm here now, Moira."

"Yeah, but your mind is elsewhere."

I wanted to reply to her but our bus arrived and the driver seemed impatient, so we jumped in wordlessly. I held Moira's hand and she rubbed mine, seemingly wanting to make up for the affection we were unable to give each other in the midst of my ordeal. I missed her too and I wanted her to know that I didn't mean to abandon her. That had to wait until we could be alone, though.

The bubble shop wasn't as crowded as I feared it would be. It was a cute shop, with pink walls and pastel blue furniture. There were a few other students occupying a table in the corner, sipping on what looked to me like strawberry-flavored beverage.

"Welcome," an employee greeted us. "We have a buy one get one promo this evening. That's only valid with a purchase of a cookie, though."

"Do you want cookie, honey?" I turned to Moira. I knew the answer would be yes because she had a sweet tooth, but I still asked in case she didn't want snacks.

"Do they have gingerbread?" She scanned the menu. They did and it was pretty affordable too. I decided to buy some for my siblings and Kenta. I hadn't properly thanked them for talking me out of drowning myself in that river, so I hoped the gingerbread could speak for me.

"They have over 35 different flavors here!" Moira marveled. "Nardho, help me. Should I get coconut or mango? Oh wait, they have raspberry!"

"Does the buy one get one need to be the same flavor?" I asked the employee.

"No, the rule doesn't say that. It only needs to be the same size. So, no small cup and big cup, but you can do two medium."

Moira settled on getting mango and raspberry bubble tea, giving the former to me. I sipped my tea out of politeness, ignoring my inexistent appetite. To my surprise, it was not horrible. It was comforting, almost like waking up on Easter and knowing that mom had some chocolate eggs hidden throughout the house.

"Look who's grinning," Moira nudged me. "Is your appetite back? I told you the bubble tea will make you bubbly."

"This isn't bad," I admitted. "If only I could feel the same way about more substantial meals."

"What if I cook for you?" She gazed at me and I knew my face reddened. "You promised me our freshman year that you'd never let me go hungry, Nardho. I'd do the same for you."

"That was my trying to flirt," I buried my face in my hands, embarrassed at the memory of our first time eating together. "I meant what I said, yes, but I didn't expect you'd still remember it after all this time."

"It was the nicest thing you could say to a homesick girl," she grinned. "In all seriousness, do you miss home? Is that part of the reason you haven't been eating?"

"I—I don't know. I shouldn't, right? I have Nardhia and Johan on campus, what more do I want?"

"You've been thinking more about your mom lately, haven't you?"

"That's normal, right? I bet you think a lot about your uncle, aunt, and cousin."

"Yeah, but don't change the topic. We're talking about you, not me!"

I didn't answer. We sat in silence until I couldn't bear the awkwardness anymore and decided just to bare it all.

"Don't tease me, but I'm a momma boy. There, I admit it. Happy?"

"There's nothing wrong with being close with your mom. If I have one, I would want to be that close too," Moira sighed. "She cooks the best dishes, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, but that's not really why I've thought a lot about her. I miss being able to call home and not having to lie about how I'm doing."

"So, you've been lying to her? But that e-mail you wrote, it was--" she cut herself off when she realized I never sent it. "Nardho, you can't keep her in the dark forever!"

"I can," I swallowed to prevent myself from letting tears fall. "I don't want her to think I'm too weak to handle college. I don't want her to force me to take a leave of absence."

"Nardho, why do you overwork yourself like this?" she took my hand and forced me to look at her. There was no avoiding the question.

"I want to graduate as fast as humanly possible," I finally admitted. "I feel I owe a lot to my family given my medical bills."

"You being sick our freshman year wasn't your fault!" she said, horrified by my logic. "And I'm sure your family never ever thought of making you pay them back."

"Maybe not, but I still want to be done with college and start earning money so that I can stop feeling like a useless person."

"This again?!" her voice was now dangerously high-pitched. "How many times do I have to remind you that you are NOT useless? You're being obnoxious."

"I'm aware of it," I leaned back in my chair. "You don't have to spell it out. I'm sorry I bore you with all my woe-is-me stuff."

I got up and was ready to leave her alone with her thoughts when she pulled on my sleeve and motioned for me to sit back down.

"How many credit hours are you taking this semester?" she asked. "Way too many, right?"

"21 credit hours and that's pretty standard."

"Standard?! You do realize that it's the MAXIMUM amount of credit hours an Honors program student could take, right? You do realize you only need 12 credit hours to be a full-time student, right?"

"What, are you saying that I should leave the Honors program or become a part-time student?"

"I'm saying that it's not too late to withdraw from a few of your classes. Consider taking just 15 credit hours like the average students. That's 6 less credit hours to worry about."

"But then I'd have to delay my graduation," I said dejectedly. "And that's not my goal."

"But you're not in a good shape, mentally and physically!" she yelled. "Stop being so hard on yourself!" she inhaled before continuing. "Nardho, I'm not even gonna argue with you. I'm tired of arguing. Instead, please tell me what it feels like to be this depressed." She tenderly ran her fingers through my hair.

"It's awful," I exhaled. "Imagine you're stuck in a burning building and there's fire everywhere. You're on the very top floor and the elevator isn't working. You call for someone to rescue you but no one hears you. Now you're looking for the nearest exit."

"Let me guess, the exit is blocked?"

"Yeah. So, you open the window and you close your eyes as you're faced with two options: get engulfed alive in the fire as the building burns or throw yourself out of the window and risk injuries on the way down."

"Where is the fire extinguisher?" Moira's eyes lit up. "If you have that you can save yourself."

"Unfortunately, Moira, when you're depressed your brain is too foggy to find an extinguisher."

"What if I help you find it?" she asked, "what if we extinguish the fire together?"

"Will you promise not to quit on me?" I reluctantly asked.

"I will," she took both of my hands into hers. "I promise to stay with you until the fire is put out."

                                                                                                   ----

Bonus:  the poems that Moira and Nardho wrote to each other 

From her for him

From him for her

Her reply