Begin Again

Chapter 11

"We are here for you Jen."

I never thought that I would allow myself to hear those words directed at me from a group of struggling people. I had always been told how strong I was. How strong I was when she first went to the hospital. How strong I was when I endured endless sleepless nights. How strong I was when the pills sucked out her last breath. I was never allowed to be weak. I was always the paragon of strength, and if I failed to be strong I would let down everyone I know. A picture of heroic Jen was painted in the minds of everyone who found it imperative to find a ray of hope to cling onto, even if it was just false hope. I allowed my behavior to be molded by the picture that everyone else wanted to see instead of feeling reality. But that's the problem. I was strong. I allowed myself to be strong for so long that I did not remember how to be weak until life's darkness encased me so fully that hardly a mutter could be heard from my desperate lips. That is how I found myself in this room. Broken, weak, and drowning in the abyss I reached out to the only thing that I could think of.

"Does anyone have something to say to Jen that might help her through this time?" Carl, the leader of the therapy group, asks the group on my be-half after I share the depressing story of how I got to this point in my life.

There is an awkward silence in the room while people shift in their chairs wondering how they could possibly help someone already so far gone like myself. After a few moments of our breaths filling the room, a girl only a few years older than I am straightens her posture and looks me dead in the eyes.

"Forever, it will be a constant battle between life and death. Earth will try to suck you into the depths of it's core, but you need to fight. Fight for the ones who have left you here. Fight for the chance of a better ending. Fight for the ones who have not been taken from you yet. And most of all, fight for the sake your dignity. Do not let the people pitying you be proven right because no, you are not a pathetic girl who has had to endure more hardship than anyone ever should and who lets earth swallow you up because you cannot bear your crosses any longer. You are a survivor. Look in the mirror and tell yourself that you are worth more than how the world perceives you. You may be barely holding onto life, but for the sake of everything you have ever had, survive."

The room grows dead quiet and I feel tears escaping the corners of my eyes.

"Thank you of sharing your thoughts, I am sure that those words were very helpful to not only Jen, but to the rest of the group. That is it for today, hopefully I will see you all next week." Carl dismisses us with only a half-genuine smile on his lips. No matter what they teach you in physiology, your PhD does not come with a minor of sympathy.

The girl who not only requested, but demanded me to survive was waiting just outside the door when I walked out of the dank room.

"Hey Jen," the mystery girl calls to me like we have been friends since before we could even walk.

"Um, hi." I reply hesitantly, walking to fill the gap between us, "And you are?"

"Are introductions really of importance? I mean isn't it just a label our parents grant us at birth so that we be able to be differentiated from each other. Besides, it's only a few syllables put together to make a sound that will label you for the rest of your life."

"Why do I get the feeling that you enjoy asking philosophical questions that no one will really ever be able to answer?" I ask, surprised at how much her demeanor has changed from before when she was basically staring into my soul with her chocolate brown eyes.

"It's not that no one can answer them it's just that no one will answer them. We get so wrapped up in the customs of our culture that we forget to stop and ask ourselves what we really are doing." Her eyes glisten as she plunges into her theories.

"Well what shall I call you if you do not like to go by your name?" I ask starting to get wary of this conversation.

"It is not that I do not like being called by my name, but didn't our parents tell us not to label people. Names are just labels after all."

"Well then what do people call you?"

"You are missing the whole point, it does't matter what they call you as long as who they are referring to is you."

"So wait, let me get this straight," I begin starting to become more confused, "you do not tell people your name because you think that labels are irrelevant and that as long as you know someone is referring to you there is no need for them to label you?"

"Basically." The mysterious girl answers as a small smile curls around her lips.

"Well, that is an intriguing thought," I admit.

"Don't worry, I'm not like this all the time," she says with a slight chuckle (probably of how my face is contorted), "Do you want to head to the cafeteria with me? I'm starving."

"No thanks, I have to go check in on my Dad," I reply, happy to have an excuse to get back to solitude.

"Okay, maybe another time then." We wave to each other as we head off into separate directions.

Eager to back to the peace and quiet, I walk briskly to the room. After a few turns down several hallways, I find my Dad safely sleeping in his bed. It is better if I think like that. If I think of him in a deep sleep rather than braving the edge of death. I sink into the chair next to his bed, exhausted from the longest excursion I have had since I got here. It is still only one in the afternoon and so I do not know why I am disappointed when I find my notification inbox empty.