"... couldn't stop" (S14)
... couldn't stop. He'd never given much thought to what everybody said the youth suffered from - "scrolling" and the TikTok addiction. He didn't think he qualified. But he felt that pull towards his screen and towards that individual and their videos. It was so easy, watching someone live their life and not having to live his own. Jesse used to go out a lot, meet his friends. Now all his acquaintances had become strangers he barely spoke to. They tried hard to stay in touch, but he wouldn't let them. He felt like being alone. He felt like taking one day at a time, and starting all over again the next day.
He didn't keep count of all the videos he watched and of all the days that passed without him ever stopping watching them. They weren't anything special, really. But they just felt real. Much more real than anything he'd done for the past months. And perhaps that's exactly what Jesse had needed; a stranger telling him what he had to hear. That being away from his friends was not the solution. That cutting them out so they didn't suffer was a bad idea. That, maybe, a friend is exactly what he needed after what had happened.
That was the moment Jesse stopped watching the videos. When they starting making sense. He couldn't cope with the reality of his secluded life and with the fact this was his own doing. If he had stayed home that day, if he had just stayed home instead of hitting the road to watch that stupid football match. Jesse stopped watching the videos, and stopped watching his phone, and looked outside. Weather was nice. Street was empty. Mail not been delivered yet. He spotted the neighbour's little boy playing alone with a ball in the unkept garden, throwing glances at the open kitchen window. Parents didn't mind the kid much. But Jesse had never really paid attention - he tried to avoid children these days.
He locked his phone and walked to the window. What did that video say? "Every day begins with an open door." So far he'd kept his tightly closed, trying to live with himself and not think about what was outside the house. But coexisting with the memories, with everything that reminded him of her, of his girl, that felt more like punishment than grief. He looked up at the boy across the street, and he opened the front door. He had let a kid down one time, he wouldn't let that one down now. Not again.
