Last night, I was quietly sitting alone, with my laptop on my... lap, in bed looking through YouTubes when a quiet voice called out to me, "Hello?" it asked. It was a young boy's voice. I tried my best to ignore it. But he kept calling out to me, "Click on that" he said. He said it over and over and over again until I finally clicked on the trailer for the Remastered version of Day of the Tentacle.
I haven't played, or even thought, about this game in a long time. The last time I played it I was a child, young gun, an innocent little kid. I remember spending summers with at my cousin's house with my grandmother while my parents worked. She watched us (me, my brother, my cousin, and his younger sister) until our respective parents came home.
We spent our afternoons crowded around a computer, clicking around, trying to solve puzzles in a game about tentacles taking over the world. It was funny. But anyway, back to last night. This voice kept screaming out to me while I watched the trailer. It was only one minute in length but it felt like a lifetime.
It felt like a lifetime of regrets. I've been doing a lot of thinking about my life. And the voices in my head. The ones that scream at me to be better. The ones that tell me I'm making more mistakes every time I stare at pictures of needles on the Internet. They're the ones that ask me "What happened?"
After the video was over, I heard that voice call out to me. He asked me what happened. He asked me why I lied to him. Why I lied to myself about everything I said I'd do when I got older. I didn't have an answer for him. So he left. He walked back into the crevices of my brainstem and never came back.
I sit here now, thinking about where he could be. And why I decided to make the decisions I made that led me up to this point. I realize that, maybe, I could have been happier this year if I had taken the proper steps to ensure that when I was younger. I don't think I can forgive myself. I don't think I can get over it. And I don't think there's any ignoring it.
There is a piece of me that is dead and missing and it isn't coming back. All I have left is the sound of my former self. A child, a young gun, an innocent kid.
Maybe playing Day of the Tentacle will wake the dead and make that voice come back home to my throat. I'll find out in March.