Lost in Your Goodbyes

Chapter 1: How My Life Began

                  You never expect to be hit with so much at once. A typical high school girl. Turned not so "normal" after all. It started when I couldn't sleep at night because I could not breathe, and eating was a whole other story. They thought it was parasomnia. An illness categorized as a group of sleep disorders distinguished by the regular occurrence of abnormal movements, vocalizations, or experiences, such as sleepwalking, talking in one's sleep, or night terrors. That was however not me in this case. They didn't look further or figure out something was way worse until later. I had managed to go from an okay girl in school to one knocked out on the floor. Waking up to tubes down my throat and paramedics all around me drifting in and out of consciousness, appearing up at the blinding lights you thought you'd only see when you were crossing over into another life. I managed to survive and be stuck in this one longer than I thought I would. I was not a happy girl, just like "all" fifteen year old's to ones in the late thirties, I had depression. I didn't realize what mental illness could do to a person just like me and you. 

Here is a list of side effects: 

sadness, tiredness, trouble focusing or concentrating, unhappiness, anger, irritability, frustration, loss of interest in pleasurable or fun activities, sleep issues (too much or too little), no energy, craving unhealthy foods or not eating at all, anxiety, isolation, and drug abuse. 

           Little did I know this would catch up to me. The very last thing on my list. I pretended to be okay for so long and started to abuse all drugs that I could. I didn't wish to feel inside anymore. They helped manage just that. Most isolated towns usually have more going on than what meets the eye. Nobody noticed the weight I had lost so quickly. It's hard to admit that I have, especially for someone just about to finish school in a small town. Where everyone, literally knew everyone. I had lost my mom that previous year. My bestfriend, the one that helped hold me together. In a way, I had lost my rock.  We all have those right? Someone who keeps you from doing stupid shit and getting the short end of the stick. Losing her I found myself somewhere at the wrong time, in the wrong place.  I got lost in the motions, I got lost in the party. I wasn't a wild child ninety-percent of my life.  I guess It was seeing my father fall apart or even my little sister running away to our uncle's house, because she too couldn't handle it that threw me over. I failed to be their rock and I was all alone, so I died inside. I needed them... until I found a different solution. Drugs. That became my new rock. Literally. 

      After that last hospital visit I was sent off. My father was so sickened with my actions and choices, he didn't know how to live with himself to have a daughter like me. They ransacked my room my private space and found exactly what they were looking for.  I could never return even with a choice too. He didn't understand what it was like to wake up and see her. To be expected to be just like she was. I was expected to be something and someone I could never possibly be. Somebody that I could not physically match. I guess he hated the fact that I did look so much like my mother because he never really looked at me after that day, until I became the problem. The reason our family looked so bad. So wretched that the next best thing for him to do, was send me away....no where near our town and definitely far away from him......He got his wish and didn't have to see his dead wife inside their oldest daughter everyday he woke up. 

      Rehab was not to bad of a place if they kept their fingers out of your mouth. I had lashing out episodes while trying to get clean. I stayed in the hospital for most of it with a feeding tube because I refused to eat. I didn't want the help. I didn't need it or so I had thought. This is the part of the story where my health had declined and I developed illnesses over time. I wanted to get cancer and die. I wanted to look up from the bottom of the sea and run out of breath. I wanted to be shot in the head because I said the wrong words. I wanted to relapse so bad I overdosed. Not only did I wished for death, I begged for it. I wanted to grab his had and walk away from here so bad that I tried to speed up the process every tiny second I had open up. Of course just like anything I had tried to do, I was bad at. They gave me a therapist and said I had purpose, I had "meaning." I stayed at the hospital for ones who were forced to be there; even if they were old enough they should have had a choice to up and leave if they had pleased. Put there by "loved" ones in bright spirits they would get better. Mine just signed me over because I was to much of a problem to handle. I guess I shouldn't complain to much though. I was allowed to walk around the mental ward on free rain just as long as someone was close by. Incase I decided to break the rules. (Again.) Sadly, I spent my days by the big glass window that if you pressed your face on hard enough, you could see the ocean down below. I swore I could even taste the saltiness from the outside or maybe it was the workers in the ward. The world may never know. 

         Conclusion: If you pretend to get better, and they notice....you get more freedom less things shoved down your throat. You get worse, they prescribe you more medicine you don't need and all is "Happy." Maybe that was the key, pretend to get better, get out of there or.... get worse and they give you more drugs. Of course my life revolved around things that I had no need for and decided that it was best because it fucked with my broken family. My father had disowned me because I was set in my ways. I had no friends here so I bet you can guess which one I had chose to do. I kept this up for about two months, until the nurses found out they were giving me my addictions and didn't think about the damage they had already costed. That was a fun other Hell I got myself into. They had transferred me to the west wing. This is where they kept the worst of the worst. A green room (Ugly as can be) with just a bowl, coloring books, and a sleeping cot. Not even the comfortable ones. Best way to sleep right?  I didn't mind it, I knew no one anyway. What difference did it make at that point? I didn't sleep either. I really did have insomnia. With habitual sleeplessness; inability to sleep nothing seemed to matter.. at least I thought this way for so long then something inside of me kind of clicked. That or I had experienced something I didn't think was a possibility. I was stuck for five months in the west wing eventually put up for probation. They decided to put me back into the east hall. Events changed this time around............. I met someone........  

                  I met a girl just like me. Her name (which I didn't learn until weeks later) was Gloria. Tall, beautiful, laced with brown hair, and hazel eyes. One moment you think you want to die, the next you get lost in ocean eyes and inspired to live. Voice sweeter than sugar and smooth like honey. Maybe getting better was the way to go. Love at first sight used to be hogs play and not even a single, slightest thought on a mental mind. But when we locked eyes on her first day in this prison gated cemetery I had a new mission. I had fallen like a maniac who forgot to tie their shoes before going on a run. My mind was trying to be in denial that I could feel love so I had made a list. What was the symptoms of falling at first sight? One: Butterflies in your stomach. When you first see them, or meet them after that first time, you are often nervous and can feel your stomach griping in anxiety. Two: Drawing their attention. You'd do anything to get their attention, and you most definitely want their eyes on you Three: A 'type' doesn't matter. Usually, most people have a 'type' when they date Four: Forever on your mind. You can't seem to stop thinking about them from that very minute you set your eyes on them. Five: Romantic notions trump logic. Needless to say, if you are someone who truly believes in love at first sight, you are a "diehard romantic." At least that is what google says. 

     However in the ward, relationships are prohibited unless it was strictly friends. Hand holding was even forbidden. Mainly the real problem was girl on girl or guy on guy. I don't really see the problem in relationships here. Aren't they supposedly a helping tool? Who am I kidding she may not even be interested in the same sex. Or dating anyone in general.  Maybe she didn't even feel the spark that I had and I made it all up. However with my determination, this was not going to stop me in this mission to succeed. I was up for the challenge and was prepared to die trying. I fell asleep that night with Gloria on my mind, a full stomach of butterflies, and a need to grab her attention.  As cheesy as this many sound Gloria is how my life began. 

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                                                                       Note from author: 

Let me know what you think about the first chapter. I haven't wrote in quite awhile and would love some feedback. I know this chapter isn't so long but it is longer than most of my writings. Or this is my longest chapter I have actually wrote. I would love to see if this is worth the time and effort anyways. Thank you for giving my book a moment of your time.                                              For the Next time -Aqua