Elena

by Alejandro Gabriel Leopardi

Elena loved everything about life. She loved to dance the night away to anything with a beat worth moving to. Elena loved to converse with anyone who opened themselves up to her, and she could talk about anything for as long as one wanted. She loved – adored, really – to read. She’d devour a book, a particularly good one, often in a day, some within hours if she couldn’t stand the suspense of the final page. Elena loved to laugh. She loved to smile. She loved to be happy for others so they, too, could be happy.

And yet, she’s gone.

Elena loved love, that much was true. But she didn’t love the world around her, not in the way she wanted to. She saw it as the irrepressible force jamming her into a place she wasn’t comfortable in. That, she loathed.

That wasn’t always true. Before the world had gone mad, she did…love it. The world. But circumstances changed, which shifted all that was good into something much worse than anyone could have conceived. When the world collapsed, it sank some, it built some, and others simply dealt with it.

She’s gone because of it.

Elena had a passion, a future she wanted, a not-so-ordinary position. Elena achieved it. She was social, loved conversing with everyone she came across for the mere opportunity to connect with another human being. Elena made more friends than most of us know people in our lifetime.

Elena was also frugal, spending only when necessary. People talked her down, made her feel less than herself for it. She traveled the world and owned a condo when most everyone she knew hadn’t even settled on a career. So, her prudent nature helped her attain the life others selfishly sought without willpower or self-control.

She despised negativity, shunning it from her side with gusto. Elena was known as the most positive, smiling person in every circle of friends, and she planned to keep it that way.

And, yet, she’s gone.

Elena hid something inside where no one could see it, where no one would ever discover it. The “beast” from within scraped and crawled until it became her, wearing Elena like a suit. The ‘her’ at the end wasn’t the her everyone knew. She couldn’t stop it, and no matter what those who lost her said, they couldn’t have either. Awareness escaped her, as she didn’t know the beast was there traveling alongside her. An unwanted, sinister companion. By the time she realized it existed, she – Elena – had ceased to be.

Sometimes the monsters we’re born with—the ones that grow and expand as we do, the ones we’re oblivious to – prey on us, haunt us until we free them. Their burden can be so great that we falter beneath their strength, collapse onto ourselves. We fight back, sure, but only those conscious of their circumstances can bolster strength from weakness and seek help when they cannot continue the fight. For the rest of us, for those who have become disillusioned by the enemy within, that help often never comes.

That’s why she’s gone.

That monster, that evil entity within Elena, drew power from her ignorance. She’d lash out over trivial matters without provocation, then wonder where that anger had come from. Blind to what was happening, she’d ignore those momentary lapses in judgment and calm, looking toward something brighter. That’s how she dealt with things, by pretending they weren’t there at all. For a long time, it worked…it worked really well, actually. No one close to her was the wiser because neither was she.

But avoidance can only function for so long before it collapses, and confrontation becomes inevitable.

When earth’s end felt eerily close, and the world shuttered in response, outlets for that avoidance shrunk in capacity. No place to run – no place to hide – which meant confronting the shadows head-on. It was alienation by force. For Elena, isolation thrust forward all the faults she shoved down and away. They crept up through the shadows, slithered out from deep corners, and while everyone else watched endless videos about terrorism, government control, and breadmaking, Elena crawled inward.

The insignificant matters from before the world disaster, the ones she thought very little about, impacted her every waking moment. She couldn’t shake away those thoughts. Everyone sat at home frightened of the dangers outside their doors, but Elena stood up, back to the wall, frightened of the dangers inside, scared they’d find her, capture her, torture her. The truth was that she tortured herself, allowed the negativity to consume her. Everything became her enemy, something to push back against, and without an outlet to vent her truth, she shrunk even further into herself.

She couldn’t call for help. She didn’t want to. People spotted the danger in increments, could sense something bad happening, yet they didn’t reach out—even if they had, Elena would have rejected their attempts. She had disconnected from the world because her worries became exponential. Too many deaths. Too much pain. Too much suffering. Too much selfishness. Before, Elena believed in humans’ innate goodness; after, Elena saw humanity’s innate cruelty. People were careless and self-centered. They didn’t want to help each other, and they surely didn’t want to band together in unity. They ostracized one another, influenced not by logic, reasoning, or any other palpable measure, but by clicks and views and likes. The worst of humanity amplified over large spans of land, the toxicity enveloping everything in its path with very few escaping it. That’s all she saw and all she could see.

And now she’s gone.

What Elena carried wasn’t unique to her because she wasn’t the only one masking the reality of herself. Many of us walk around touting one truth—one version of ourselves—while hoarding our real truth. We’re scared, sure, except the fear is crippling, made worse by the other fear, the one that reflects back at us from every person we encounter. Elena’s demons are our own, and unless we share this reality with others, we’re destined to pull away from humanity altogether.

She’s gone.

Elena didn’t tell anyone what she was dealing with until near the end. She locked herself up in her home, afraid of what was happening outside, afraid for her fiancé’s life—a police officer during some of the most troubled times in recent history. The “tornado" outside her doors consumed everything in its path. Elena sought solace online, on platforms she believed would share her anxiousness about the direction in which we were headed. Social media proved to be false advertisement as it lacked the social acceptance Elena was looking for. Instead, it spewed more pessimism and fed her mind with more worry, more sickness, more doubt.

Elena tried to come to terms with that new phase in her life, one that countered her almost forty years of optimism and deflection. When going online didn’t work, a circle of friends tried to form a ‘comfort community so she’d have others around who cared. As endearing as the idea seemed, they had their own lives and their own problems, often choosing themselves over Elena—something that wasn’t borne of malice but convenience. Concern can only go so far. What Elena needed —what we all need—is sometimes simpler than we make it out to be. We want company. We want an open heart, an open mind, and open ears. Elena didn’t want anyone to solve her dilemma, rather, she wanted help as she found her path. It never came.

Elena continued to close in on herself, even accepting depression medication prescribed by her physician—not her therapist or psychiatrist— during a virtual visit. Instead of feeling better, Elena got lost in her own mind before she lost all hope. Head in the clouds, thoughts meandering through life’s endless and exit-less maze, Elena crafted an escape plan, one that was guaranteed not to falter and ensured a reprieve from her battles. It was simple, it was cold, but most importantly, it was effective. No warning signs or messages. A casual exchange via text with a close friend, then silence. BANG! It took only a moment, kneeling in front of her bed. No one would find a note or a reason or a cause, only the remnants of a once happy woman who spent her life exuding joy and embracing others so they too could feed off her energy.

Elena’s gone, and she’s not coming back. She taught us a lesson in humility and compassion, in looking out for one another regardless of how that person presents themselves to the world. She left a clear reminder that happy people aren’t happy. Not all the time.

BIO: Alejandro Gabriel Leopardi is an English professor teaching literature and writing at Montgomery College in Maryland. His work has appeared in Duck Head Journal, Academy of the Heart and Mind, and The Sligo Journal, as well as the Sci-Fi anthology Alien Aberrations. Alejandro is also a screenwriter and has had his screenplay, We, produced; it is available on several streaming services, including Apple TV and Amazon Prime.