Page 3 of Follow My Voice
We had this same conversation when I started my previous antidepressants. The first few weeks, as my body got used to the medication, I felt even lower and more depressed—something that can happen before you begin to notice any improvement. I call it a roller coaster: sudden lows followed by new highs. Kamila was by my side then, too.
“Andy will be home from work soon, so you won’t be alone for long. You can call me if you need anything.”
Andy is Kamila’s husband, and I live with them. He’s a nice man.
I swallow, because being alone scares me more than I want to admit. “I’m fine, go.”
Kamila pulls me into a hug. “I love you, K.”
I respond with a couple pats on her back. “I love you too, K2.”
We’ve used these nicknames for each other since we were little. Even though she was a teenager when I was born, our age difference never kept us from being close.
I watch her walk away, and then I go into my bedroom. When I hear Kang’s voice opening the show, I relax and begin to eat my popcorn. The topic tonight is family.
“I think that who we are, our personality, has a lot to do with how we’re raised and the things we see on a daily basis growing up.”
His voice sounds a little sad. Does this topic upset him? If so, that makes two of us.
“What do you guys think? Let me know in a text message as we listen to the next song.”
As I begin to get lost in the lyrics, I feel a tap on the shoulder and open my eyes. Andy is standing in front of me, wearing an impeccable gray suit, a light-blue button-down shirt, and a striped tie to match. His dark hair is combed back perfectly, not a strand out of place.
I put my headphones around my neck. “Hey,” I say, greeting him with a smile.
“Just wanted to let you know I was home. Keep listening to your show,” he says, as he checks his watch. “It’s your favorite one, right?” I nod and he points to my hair. “Pink looks good on you.”
I roll my eyes. “According to you and Kamila, everything looks good on me.”
“It’s because we love you.”
Andy is a very sweet man, and, despite the fact that he’s only a few years older than my sister, he’s become like a father to me.
“Sorry, but your opinion doesn’t count for much.”
“That hurts,” he says, grabbing his chest.
“You’ll survive.”
He turns around and walks to the door. “Enjoy your show.”
I put my headphones back on just in time to listen to Kang reading one of the many messages he’s received. “This next one is from a very dedicated listener. Thank you for always tuning in, Liliana. Today she says: ‘I love the way you express yourself so well and how you help others understand complicated topics. I find it very… sexy.’ Umm… Thanks so much for this message of support. I do it for our listeners—I couldn’t do it without you guys.”
Liliana sends messages all the time, and it irks me, though I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the fact that Kang thinks of her as a dedicated listener when there are so many other people like me who’ve been listening to the show for ages. But it doesn’t matter.
Kang says good night as the show comes to an end. “Don’t forget to follow us on social media. You can findFollow My Voiceon YouTube, Instagram, and X. Good night from your humble host, Kang. Have a great evening. I’ll leave you with this song titled ‘More of You,’ from the band Broken Dreams.”
More…
It’s not enough.
What if it’s not enough?
If everything changes,
no matter how much I pay attention…
to you…
