Behind Blue Eyes

8

March 8th

There's muted neon colors. There's red solo cups on the floor. I'm at a party that I recognize, and I absolutely hate that I'm familiar with it. I swear, I haven't thought about this in a good, long while.

In a mix and flurry of music, smoke and booze, I see people talking, laughing, having fun, making out, and God knows what else. I see people lying on the ground, full on doing it. Jesus, at least find a room. There's three of them upstairs.

"Come on" a voice tells me. That's Jessica. But it can't be, she's dead.

After I wander around a little while more, Jessica's pale face fills my eyes. "I said come on!"

---

I jolt awake. Fuck, I hate that. I have that nightmare every so often and I feel like absolute shit whenever it comes. I hate that I was never there to stop Jessica from doing what she did. I told her over and over again to stop, but she just wouldn't listen. Survivor's guilt, I suppose.

My body is drenched in sweat. I glance at the clock. It's only 8:02. Max notices that something's wrong. He comes over and nuzzles next to me. I take my phone off of my nightstand. I have a few messages. One is from David: it's a video of something stupid that he found and decided to send me at 3 in the morning. And he has an issue with me staying up late and sleeping in? I have another one from Rachel; she's inviting me to a party on Friday. I may or may not go.

There's one from Paul:

Hey, sorry to be texting you so late, but I can't stop thinking about how great our meeting was, today. Can we hang out again, sometime soon? Sorry if that's too forward.

I'm so floored. It's been awhile since someone expressed themselves to me in a positive light. I open his message and read it over at least three more times. It helps alleviate the tension from the nightmare I just had.

I finally respond back to him.

I would love that :)

I set my phone back down and look up at my ceiling. I have butterflies. I made a new friend.

I turn on my TV and flip through until I find something stupid. Reality TV is usually the go to answer for that, but there's nothing really on this early in the morning. I first stop on some infomercials to pass the time. A microwave that cooks your food and blows your nose? Only $599.99!

---

After a few more hours of lying in bed, I head downstairs. I smell good food that's brewing. Dad usually makes food whenever he feels happy.

"What's got you in a good mood?" I ask him.

"You, actually" he says.

"What did I do?"

"Nothing much. Just super happy that you're getting out there and trying new things" he beams.

"Well, I have you and Mom to thank for that. Without the little push from you guys, I wouldn't have even gone."

"Oh, so you're saying we should push you to do anything and everything?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

He laughs. "Do you like the others in your group?"

"It would be awful if I said no."

"True, but honesty is key, here."

"Well I honestly like all of them. They're all very unique, have very different upbringings and have their own stories to tell."

"Hey! That's terrific" he exclaims. He sets down a plate of food in front of me and it truly looks like the best food he's ever cooked me. No joke. No lie. No hesitation. Steak and eggs with a side plate of mini waffles. The smell in here is enough to get you positively high.

"Dig in, kiddo." He doesn't have to tell me twice.

As I switch between admiring the food and actually eating it, my mind starts racing. I have mixed feelings. Yes, I did make a plan to kill myself. The thought of me actually doing that still reels me. I've never been that confident, nor down and out to actually set something in stone. Do I still plan to go through with it? That's what I'm wrestling with. There are people out there with my afflictions that are able to better themselves. I know I'm still young, so why should I end my life before it really gets started? Let's counter that for a second: why would I want my life to continue? Just because I've had a somewhat OK last week, doesn't mean I'm fully changed. That sounds horrible, but I don't lie.

I know that Mom, Dad and David will be crushed If I go through with it, and they'll probably be the only ones. Rachel is a good friend, but she hasn't known me long enough to develop an intense connection, so she might not even notice. As for the people in group, well, what they don't know won't hurt them. But that brings up another point: why even go to group in the first place? To keep up appearnaces? That could be. There might've been a genuine urge to try it out on my end, but even that confuses me. When I stop showing up, they'll just chalk it up to the fact that I stopped going. They might be worried at first, but that will eventually go away.

Paul would feel it, though. He would be crushed. Especially considering what he sent me this morning. So what if I go through with it? Does that make me a selfish person? Does that make me horrible? A vile creature that only cared about themselves? I wouldn't be around for the guilt and scorn that would follow, so what do I care?

All of this thinking is starting to make me lose my appetite, but the food is so good and Dad spent a lot of time making it, so I don't want to just full stop. I redirect my thoughts to something else.

Paul.

Where would he wanna hang out? Would he let me pick or would he plan ahead? What would I wear?

Now I'm really overthinking. I put in my headphones and listen to some music to take my mind away. As I let the music play, I stare out the window and gaze at the sunny locale outside. I really need to do somethinking in the next few weeks. But for now? I don't need to worry about that. I can just let life distract me for a little while and feel OK.

I look at my Dad. He doesn't see me looking, but I think he can feel it. I just focus on his warm face and silently thank God for at least bringing kind foster parents into my life. I might've left earlier had they not been around.