The Summer I Forgot to Exist

The Summer I Forgot to Exist

Genre: Fiction / Psyche / Mental Health

Format: Diary-style narrative

June 5th

They say the sun heals everything. I believed that once. Now I just flinch when the light touches me, like it’s trying to burn the truth off my skin. The first party of the summer was tonight. Bonfire on the beach. Everyone was there. I smiled, I laughed. I don't remember meaning any of it.

When Mia handed me a drink and said, "You’re finally back!" I just nodded. But the thing is, I don't think I ever came back from wherever I went last winter. I think I left a version of myself out there in the cold. This? This is just a projection. I’m the ghost at my own summer.

June 12th

My mother says I sleep too much. She's started calling it my "hibernation phase." She thinks it's just teenage laziness, like I’ll wake up one day and care again. She doesn't know how heavy my limbs feel in the morning. Like I’m dragging around all the things I can’t say.

The ocean’s blue today. Bright, almost glassy. I stood at the edge and thought about walking in fully clothed. Not to die—just to disappear for a while. Melt into something fluid. But I didn’t. I stayed on the sand and watched other people be alive.

June 18th

There's a boy. Of course there’s a boy. His name is Leo, and he laughs with his whole body like he's never been afraid of the silence. He asked if I wanted to go hiking. I said yes even though the thought of climbing anything made my lungs close up.

At the top of the hill, he pointed at the lake and said, “Everything’s smaller from up here. Even your problems.”

I didn’t tell him that mine follow me like shadows, even in the brightest light.

June 24th

I skipped another party. Mia texted: “You good?”

What am I supposed to say to that? That I feel like a foggy mirror? That I can’t remember what my voice sounds like when I’m not performing? That I scroll through pictures of myself from last year trying to remember what happiness felt like?

I left her on read. It’s easier than trying to explain how it feels to slowly evaporate.

July 1st

The fireworks were too loud. Each explosion felt like it was cracking something inside me. Everyone was cheering. I sat on a picnic blanket and counted my breaths like I used to in therapy. In. Out. In. Out.

Leo sat beside me and offered his hoodie. I took it even though I wasn’t cold. I think I just wanted to feel held, even by a piece of fabric.

When he asked, “Are you okay?” I almost told the truth. But I smiled instead and said, “Just tired.”

It’s always safer to be tired than sad.

July 9th

I forgot what day it was. Completely. I woke up at noon and stared at the ceiling for an hour. The cracks look like constellations now. I’ve named them. This one’s "The Pretender." That one’s "The Hollow Girl."

I wonder if I’ve always been this good at pretending. Or if the summer just sharpened it into a skill.

I feel like a background character in someone else’s memory. Like I’ll show up in group photos smiling, and no one will remember what I sounded like.

July 15th

Mia came over. She sat on my floor and asked if I hated her. I told her no, but I could see in her eyes she didn’t believe me.

I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t about her. That nothing is about anything when your mind goes quiet like this. It’s like being underwater—words are distorted, time moves strange. You forget how to reach for things. Even people.

She hugged me anyway.

Maybe that’s all anyone can do.

July 23rd

I let Leo read some of my journal. Not this one. A different one. The one where I tried to write what the emptiness feels like. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Then he said, “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

I cried. Not loud, but real. For the first time all summer. The kind of cry that feels like digging yourself out of your own skin. He held my hand the whole time.

It didn’t fix me. But it made me feel less invisible.

August 1st

The light outside has started to change. Softer. Less aggressive. Maybe it's just me.

I'm not okay yet. But I think I want to be. That’s new. I want to want things again. I want to stop floating. I want to feel the weight of myself and not panic.

I want to exist

Maybe that’s the beginning.

August 10th

The ocean’s still blue. But today I ran into the waves instead of away from them. I screamed into the water and laughed when it nearly knocked me over. Mia filmed it and shouted, “You’re back!”

I don’t know if I am. But for the first time, I didn’t feel like a ghost.

And maybe that’s enough.

End of Summer

I didn’t write the day down. I forgot again. But this time it felt okay. I was busy living. There was sun on my face and salt in my hair. I looked in the mirror and recognized something.

Not the full me. But a shadow of her. A spark.

This summer looked perfect on the outside. But the real story was the quiet unraveling. The slow forgetting.

And now, maybe, the slow remembering.

Of who I am. Of why I matter.

Of how to exist again.