“Eliza, why don’t you go ahead and take a spot on the couch? Make yourself comfortable.”
“Okay.”
“Would you like anything to drink?”
“Um, maybe water.”
“Water it is. I’m glad you decided to come talk to me.”
“I wasn’t going to. I mean—my parents wanted me to. I don’t really like talking. I just want to get past all of this.”
“Of course. I’ve been reading over the questionnaire you filled out for me, and matching that up with what your parents told me—it seems like you’ve had quite a roller coaster of a school year.”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Why is that?”
“Everything’s gotten worse. Well, not worse. Kind of worse? I don’t know, worse doesn’t sound right. More intense?”
“Intense might be a good word for it. Where do you feel like it started going downhill?”
“It went uphill before it went down. I don’t know. Maybe October.”
“What happened in October?”
“Um. That was when I met Wallace.”
“Wallace is your boyfriend, correct?”
“Yes. Or he was. I don’t know anymore.”
“Okay, so when you met Wallace. How did things change for you then?”
“We started hanging out. I didn’t hang out with anyone in school . . . or outside of school. Wallace is a Monstrous Sea fan, and it was the first time I’d ever met one in real life. I met his friends too.”
“Did you get along with them?”
“Sure.”
“Did Wallace meet your friends?”
“Technically, yeah. Max and Emmy are both on the Monstrous Sea forums, so he’s probably seen them before.”
“You don’t know Max and Emmy in real life?”
“I know them in real life. It’s not like they’re pretending to be somebody else just because they’re online.”
“I mean face-to-face, as in you could reach out and touch them.”
“No. One of them lives in Canada and the other’s in school in California.”
“So you’re used to interacting with people mostly on the internet.”
“I guess. Before Wallace I mostly only interacted with my family. Is that bad?”
“Not necessarily. Many people, especially teenagers your age, find their closest friends and communities online. I apologize for saying ‘in real life’—I didn’t intend to sound like I thought they weren’t valuable relationships.”
“That’s okay. You’re better than my parents were.”
“What do your parents say?”
“Lots of things. They used to say they were okay with the online stuff, but I don’t think they were. They were happy when Wallace came around, though. I guess they thought I was breaking out of my shell, or whatever.”
“Were you?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I started doing more stuff outside my house, but it still wasn’t the same as being online.”
“How did you feel online?”
“Like the creator of one of the most popular webcomics in the world. I was invincible. It’s so much easier to deal with people when you feel like they can’t touch you.”
“It’s normal to experience those kinds of power differences. Did you feel that way around Wallace all the time?”
“No. Sometimes, but not all the time. I pretended to be a fan too. Wallace is the most popular Monstrous Sea fanfiction writer.”
“Why don’t we talk a little more about Monstrous Sea?”
“Like what?”
“Why don’t you tell me what it’s about?”
“You haven’t read it? Ugh—sorry, that sounded bad. I mean like, all of this is about Monstrous Sea, I thought you might’ve gone online to look at it . . . sorry, I’m not pretentious, I swear.”
“That’s okay. I did look it up, but I wanted to hear you describe it.”
“It’s . . . hard to explain. There’s a boy and a girl and—have you read Faust? Or seen it? You know the Faust legend, right?”
“Yes, I know Faust.”
“Okay, so the boy and girl have basically sold their souls for great power. Kind of. It’s weird. They live on this huge, distant planet called Orcus, and it’s mostly ocean. The boy and the girl are the only ones who can kill each other, and they’re pitted on opposite sides of a war—I’m not explaining it well.”
“You’re doing a fine job.”
“So the girl finds out she’s been misled by her side, and the boy tries to influence her over to his, but he turns out to kind of be the monster everyone always said he was, just in a different way. . . .”
“How long have you been working on this?”
“A long time.”
“Do you think about it often?”
“Every day. Sometimes it’s all I think about. But I haven’t been able to work on it since . . . a few weeks ago.”
“When it was revealed that you created it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“The motivation is gone. It used to be part of me, something I did all the time. I don’t even know if I miss it or not.”
“Have you been working on anything else?”
“No. I’ve tried, but then I feel guilty about not working on Monstrous Sea.”
“Why do you feel guilty?”
“Part of it’s the fans, I guess. They’ve been reading it so long, and it’s so close to the end, I feel like I’m letting them down. I am letting them down. But the other part is the story itself . . . never mind. It’s stupid.”
“Nothing’s stupid, Eliza. What about the story?”
“I feel like I’m letting the story down. Like I’m not worthy of it because I couldn’t finish it.”
“Does that bother you often?”
“I’ve had a few nightmares about it.”
“Nightmares?”
“Like . . . ‘getting eaten by sea monsters’ type nightmares. So that’s normal, right?”
“It’s normal to have nightmares when you’re stressed, yes. I’ve met artists before who have experienced similar feelings—not feeling worthy of their own work, guilt over an incomplete piece, anxiety about what their fans want and how they might deliver it. It’s normal, but that doesn’t mean it’s always healthy. Eliza, your worth as a person is not dependent on the art you create or what other people think of it.”
“Then . . . what is it dependent on? What is there beyond what we create and leave behind?”
“Do you believe the people of highest worth are those who only do excellent work?”
“Well . . .”
“Let me put it this way: your brothers are athletes, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“If they lose a game, don’t they risk also losing supporters?”
“I guess.”
“Does that make their lives worth less than those of two boys who only win?”
“Of course not. That would be ridiculous. It’s just a game.”
“They might say the same of Monstrous Sea. It’s only a comic.”