Even now I cannot think of something -significantly wonderful or brilliant and pure- that I will always remember. I suppose that’s inevitable, remembering the bad more than the good.
Right now is phenomenal in comparison to the extent of my life. I’m considered to reside at the highest peak of middle class. I am sober and out of legal struggles; at least of personal battles being adjudicated. I’m on my way to receive a certificate in Entrepreneurship and an Associates in Business. Then I’m off to major in Writing and Film Performance at University. I am presently in a situation that I could at some point find genuine happiness in. This leaves me with optimism and determination, and that’s good enough for me. There was once a time when I had none of these things. I was with my mother, you see, struggling on the brink of no longer even being considered high lower class. Evidently I was visibly not sober and suffered frequently from negative lawful encounters. Education rested peacefully in the void filled with everything of mine that was out-of-sight-out-of-mind.
As the bus came to a halt I felt gravity tug at my body, stiff with euphoric adrenaline. It was the finale of my first day of Sophomore year; I was home. The fuel to my blood pumping so pleasantly was the urge to text the person in possession of the phone number I received after third period. The smile that boasted from cheek to cheek, exhibited just how naive I truly was. For this was about the worst/best day of my life (remarkably bad but good in a way that was life changing). It wasn’t until I reached the porch that I looked, meeting the gaze of every one of the eight residence of the household. They had been so silent, I was immediately taken aback. The mood displayed on each face was grim. The dull aroma so eerie my stomach was dropping and turning; trying to escape my body. My eye’s had fallen from pumped and vibrant to bleary and tired. My mouth; from a smile to an expressionless gaze as I vaguely examined the horizon of faces. What could leave them so uncanny that I could feel their energy unnaturally weighing me down? I felt peculiar shifts following the rush growing up my spine. I saw the tear upon my baby sisters face - in the far distance behind blurry figures- like it was the only knowledgeable important thing in the world. I could feel my body telling me to tumble over, pass out and wake up later like this is all a dream. I knew why they were all outside like this, and it wasn’t just a smoke break.
“Hunny,” my mother let out in a sigh, her cigarette no longer burning.
“What?” The word was so weak after a moment of silence I wasn’t sure if I had even spoken at all or if it was just in my head. As my eyes caught sight of each face one by one their heads reluctantly rotated down, unable to confront me. Their jaws clenched with dying cigarettes in hand. Even my mother's neck had fallen weak until her instincts kicked in, with the sight of her eyes I knew what it was but, it couldn't be, right?
“Is it Uncle Ryan? Kat? Is someone hurt? Is it a cat, or one of the dogs?” Excuses suddenly rushed in and were flooding my head, “Did maddy get in trouble or something? Are we losing the house? Was th---.”
“No,” a stern foreign voice rang from my mother's mouth. Proceeding my flinch of shock -though I wasn’t the only one- her tone changed. “Just stop Emmy” she hissed underneath her breath. From there I was certain of my theory. My nostrils began to tingle- “We have about 2 hours to get you to your transporter, Troy’s sending you back to detention tonight.”As in juvenile detention, though I hadn't even done anything.
I glanced back one more time at everyone before white started to intrude on my eyesight. I gracefully wisped passed the crowd of strained bystanders, not sure if anyone was speaking to me; though I’m sure they weren’t. As I made my way upstairs, stepping every other step, my heart was beating so hard it must have bruised my chest. When faced with my door I kicked it open with much needed unnecessary force. It then held itself open as I entered, the knob lodged in periodically abused drywall. As I looked inside: Shelves were cleared off and hung sideways on an angle, drawers and bags were emptied and laying on the floor, pillows removed from their covers, sheets flung across the side of my mattress which leaned against my wall on top of my box spring. My fists clenched so hard I could feel blood dampening my fingers. My world was spinning, my mind empty as I tore at every follicle upon my head. I couldn’t find the sound of my screams for I was lost; overworked and empty. Slowly I began to breathe into the eternal darkness behind my eyelids, as reality began fill into my body, the weight eventually threatened to knock me down the steps as I made a move. Slowly I made my way to the stairs, observing everything around me so I could close my eyes and imagine being there - when sitting in a 10x5 cement cage that night. When I got the the stairs I paused- frozen in direct eye contact with my mother. I knew she could read my expresion thought the pain surges out of hers life a waterfall- that I could see. The world began to crash back into me, so hard I almost fell down the stairs when attempting to take a step. No matter the evil I had possessed, no matter intolerable, destructive or malicious my actions were; she longed for me not to be a criminal, it was unintentional cruelty. I reached the bottom of the stairs and fell heavy into her from a step higher and her legs planted stronger into the foundation below. My mother hoped the girl that leaned into her arms was simply the brown-eyed baby girl that she appeared to be; her miracle baby.
In a calm feature I agreed to go peacefully, I’d turn myself in with no forced needed. Though I cautiously interrogated myself with questions. What’s the point in turning myself in only to think continually, reminding myself what a dishonor I am? Beat myself over the things I’ve done and people I’ve hurt? Remind myself of the morbid tricks my mind plays on me, stranding me in awkward endeavors and a never ending war? When you are discharged who's to say you won’t go back, over and over until you are locked up forever? How can I think I’m doing better, working my hardest and still not be doing good enough? If this is the most I will ever be what’s to come of me?
My family then excused themselves for a cigarette break, I didn’t follow. I was sorely focused at a Ziplock bag cozily blanketing my medications. Within the time of my frenzy I absentmindedly scooped a bottle up on my way the bathroom. I locked the door and moved down to witness my face in the tattered mirror, setting the orange container down opposite of the soap. deserted
“Okay,” I said quietly but surely; gulping down the denial “okay”.
After a few moments there was a tickle in my mind, a twitch of my lip. Moment five and I looked through to nothing but my own mind. During moment six my hands began the pulse, shaking their grasp on the sink. Moment eight and a crooked smile slithered through my cheeks. Eight my thumb pressed down the tab; I wished I was a kid. At the ninth moment my hands rattled off the lid; which glided down in a spiral around the circle of the sink. Moment ten and I experienced my mind become vacant as white rhombuses piled out onto my hand Remember when you were eleven- a little girl who thought it could never get worse. Now look at you, open your mouth. Tell yourself what you see. DO IT. I screamed in whispers. Can you finally grow up and actually do something right for once. You consistently fail no matter how hard you try. A wet tear polluted with specks of black rounded each cheek to the hollows of my mouth. You will never get better. You know it, we all know it. You’re at the hollows of your sanity, your worth, life, right to live and there's no recovering from who you are now. You can’t make up for everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, everyones respect and love. It will take time, if not forever. You’re going nowhere and ruining the little bit you have, it can only get worse from here. There is no point? Is there? End it.
After a minute, the white rhombuses blockaded my throat; my mind desert and my heart forsaken. As I tried to push and rub the feeling back into my face: eyeliner deepened the shadow of purple bags underneath either eye, as steaks of smooth solid black painted down my face, pain filled my chest, weakness struck my arms and defeat nudged it’s way into my stomach. Due to the immense amount of stress progressing as I struggled to grasp everything going on. I trailed myself into shock, fainting, and hitting my head on the shelf, knocking down items causing an alarming abundance of noise.
My step-father arrived heroically -having to breaking the lock) coming to the bathroom. His suspicious arises after I had not replied to his many attempts at calling my name. Having to break the lock in the door (still broken to this day). As adrenaline raises the speed of your mind does as well; because of this fact his vigilance revealed the empty bottle. As my parents attempted to wake me up I vaguely remember it even though I was 98% incoherent, I felt the tucking the tucking of my body. I just knew how worried and how pained their voices wailed and panicked.
When I opened my eyes I was looking at a bright grey/clear blue sky and took in a mystifying breath of fresh air and refused to let it out until it begun to flood over transforming into something no longer pleasing. Though all I heard was the crescendo of the piercing ringing noise in my ears. Apparently I wasn’t in heaven; even though I’m sure that’s not where I was headed anyways. I heard a throng of voices clustered together, the volume was so loud it was beating on my eardrums. So overpowering it was as if they were creating a dome around me. As I looked forward I saw my feet with seat belt material strapping across my shins. Than as I moved my ways up, across my waist another set was suspended. I decided to look around as the true dull shade of the day appeared as my eyes adjusted with the brightness dimming. Steadily I registered that it had grown into a chillingly grey evening. I followed a panorama, this is what I saw: First, at my feet was a gentleman’s back, slender with a patchy loss of brown hair, my mother was sitting in my father's arms, my sister watching from a distance, random people I couldn’t identify, a state cop car, a sheriff's car, a car from the fire department, a truck and two cars I did not recognize and an ambulance; which I was headed straight for.
Then a bruting and bulky cop stopped short in the way of our path. A husky voice called for my attention from beside me. I yanked my head in his direction startled he was so close. He asked me my name and birthdate; I answered. Then he started asking me questions that I didn’t understand. Then it hit me that all those people were there either because in their eyes I was capable of hurting other people since I was crazy enough to hurt myself or just incase it was a scam and I was about to run from the law from my hospital bed. In reality they found contraband and trinkets from my past life that resided in forgotten hiding spots in the frame of my dresser, the pocket of an old purse ect. Though even if it had been in a floor board from 75 years ago they still would have found it. The cop eventually came to a question I was unsure how to answer.
“So it was reported you took some of your medications this evening, more than prescribed.” His eyebrow raised at my silence. Great, now they’re going to send me to rehab for “abusing a substance”. He looked across at his partner, then looked back at me and asked “we need to know if you actually took them, as much as they report you did. Did you?” He spoke as if I had just stolen a petty item from the store or lied about taking out the trash.
I smirked at him “nah, how bout’ we just head to the courthouse?” his facial expression after was priceless, I laughed as he continued to be shocked by my reaction. The group of people around me looked like lost puppies without their mother; unsure of what to do next. Not sure whether to get me to the hospital or push me off the gurney. That was until I heard my mother'sp broken voice coming from some place in the distance.
“She did, she took them. She took the pills, fuc--,” I was suprised she could hear from that far away. “Just get her to the hospital, do something.” She looked as though she needed the ambulance more than I did, only showing slight relief when her request was heard.
The cop cleared his throat to reassure “Load her up, she could have a stroke any minute.” He turned the other way and disappeared speaking gibberish into his radio.
My neck felt too weak to hold my head up, so I dropped it down. In my defence it was kind of a stupid question. Why would someone hoping for poison to spread throughout her body go ahead and say; “Yes! I totally took them can you save my life now so I can face to consequences of my consistently reckless actions. How silly of me, just hand me the antidote right now!”. It was an impulse choice so my instincts at the moments were intent on them bring me even further from safety or stalling until I croke. At the time it seemed like I was unlucky when they continued to my ride to my unwanted safety. Contrariwise little did I know my mother's irrevocable love had just saved my life.
I felt my body vibrating and flimsy as they shook and shifted the stretcher until they glided my into ambulance smoothly. It felt like my body didn’t even stop moving, like I was going to fall over even as they assured me I had stopped moving.
After what seemed like a lifetime, the balding slender man sat to my left and the doors closed. He look at me and his lips started to move, the only thing I could hear was the ringing in my ears. My body felt like it was lifting and I could feel. my heartbeat. Not because it was speeding but because it was quite slow but so powerful. I couldn't feel the movement of my eyes as they looked around at the fading interior of ambulance. My eyelids were heavy and were begging for me to shut them; let them rest peacefully. But there was something inside of me fighting so hard my body cries excessively, the weight of each tear dripping from my skin. There was a force urging me to stay awake. Stimulating my senses with self awareness, even with it in my grasp I could feel the essence of my life slipping.
I let my head fall sideways while I relaxed my body with quick and short breaths that have faded shallower and shallower. In my direct line of vision was a box clock planted beside the northeast corner of the doors. It read 5-something, I began to blink frantically trying to clear my vision. Foreign colors began to blind me even further, so I opened them as far as I could and then squeezing them down. Open. Squeeze. Open. Squeeze. I felt something sharp gouge into my opposite arm. The pain exceeding what I could handle rang throughout my body. I used what energy I could rack up to find out what the hell this guy was doing to me. I looked over and immediately regretted it as soon as I caught the sight of my blood. I swallowed conclusively, stomach heaving. I suddenly wished I had some new existence in a realm far away from this tragic place. I leaned my head against the cool rail, trying to hold onto my consciousness.
“Something is wrong,” I warned as I turned my head to the rail back on the opposite side again; the clock visible, agonizingly still dizzy. I could read it this time. 5:39. It was that day of September 6, 2015 at exactly 5:39 PM that I was dying - and I was honestly petrified. My body and mind were undergoing the most acute experiences I've ever endured. Absent minded of simply one single thing sublime enough to honor in those moments; and that terrified me. I longed for someone or something other than numbness. I had fallen a victim to my own mind. Like often I did something impulsive, not realizing the varsity until it's done. I didn't want to live but I was too scared to die. That’s why I did it, because I was scared of it and no longer wanted to face the troubles the world handed me; I handed myself. My foolish, sightless pride surpassed my judgment into a level of insanity I’m evermore ashamed of. I saw then that, control over what happens to you is never a triumph if all it does is leave you with failure and defeat. Furthermore, I’m certain I shall never quit when it's so easy to crave in at rock bottom. I refuse to be to that feeble and I will struggle with perseverance to remain resilient. For what is to become of me if I give up on my life before I've made a difference worthy to salute. An impact I can remember in my final breath of life and will live on in the warmth of others hearts. Until I've lived the to most complete extent I possibly can. I scavenged a prophecy; one in which I do not die until I am no longer afraid of death.
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