Rebirth

Chapter 2: How Far Did I Spiral?

Chapter 2: How Far Did I Spiral?

Journal

15Mar2035

Dear Diary,

How far did I spiral? Well, that's left up to the interpretation of each individual who knew me. Though, what do I owe it to myself to be forthcoming, truthful, honest? The hardest thing for me to accept as an individual in itself. I always saw the evil in others, far beyond our first interaction of a simple hello. Sure, one in a million might actually be genuine, however, all I'd ever learned was that everyone was out to get something and usually by using another.

In turn, I began to analyze others. I looked for their weakness, their downfalls, their strife, the struggles that could easily be turned around to my advantage. If I could manipulate them before they dug their vicious claws into me, perhaps, I could set the stage and expectation of our relationship. Whatever that might be, I always sought what another could do for, or provide me.

What was their use for in my web?

Even now, as I glance over the top of the pages of this journal, there is a woman who believes that I don't notice the way she glances at me. She believes she's slick, probably analyzing me as I once did with others.

Who am I kidding? I'm repeating the worst of my previous traits. I guess that's why those who remember their past lives usually start to forget as they age, it provides a blank slate for a new beginning, another life...

...I'm stuck.

"Excuse me?" The woman draws my full attention as I hardly lower my journal, moving just slightly back against the cushiony pillow. When I don't respond to her, merely eyeing her up and down, sizing up before she asks, "Where are your parents?"

"Not here," I reply quite dryly.

The woman shakes her head and looks around the rest of the bus. Everyone else is minding their own business. She pries further as she decides it's best to move a seat closer to me, her voice turning to a hush manner, "You're quite young to be traveling by yourself, are you a runaway?"

I can see the app she has open on her phone, my peripheral vision one of full-court courtesy of basketball. It's an amber alert, though, by the looks of it, my family hasn't figured out that I'd left yet. It will only be a matter of time; I know that's inevitable.

"Please kindly mind your own business and leave me alone," my voice is strong for fifteen years, and it comes off as a surprise to the woman. I've only further piqued her curiosity, eyeing her as she moves back to her seat, her nose nearly pressed to the screen of her phone.

Releasing a soft sigh and lowering my gaze back to the pages of my journal, I can still see her just within my sights.

Where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? Oh, that's right...how far did I spiral? Well, if I must give an honest opinion of myself, I'd say I hit rock bottom far before I'd even realized it. You see, each time I sought out help, there were always barriers barring me from actually getting the help I so desperately needed.

Find a psychologist...oh, they actually aren't in-network.

Find another psychologist that is within the network...oh, they're over three hours away.

Even my husband, Joseph, saw how different I was, the path I was walking was starting to disturb him just as much as it was me. Joe wasn't just worried for my health, but that of our daughter's, Tabitha.

So, I shrugged my shoulders, admitting to him that I had tried everything. He didn't believe that I had done everything I could, he believed he could do better. So, I handed the reigns over to him, allowing him to seek out what was unattainable to me. Part of me wanted to see him fail, however, a small light within me begged for him to uncover what I could not.

How hard could this really be?

The world didn't want to help me, my thoughts turning darker once more, admitting to myself that if we are all crazy, who's supposed to fix it?

Joe found a psychologist...

...the day of the appointment, they asked how I would be paying.

Like always, a surprise came along, they weren't in-network.

A big fuck you and I canceled the appointment, another nail steadily hammering into the coffin I was building.

"Yes, I don't believe she's eighteen," the woman is talking on her phone, telling whoever she's ratting me out to on the other end of the line. She shakes her head, "No, I've been trying to ask her, I think she might be a runaway, or she could have been kidnapped and escaped."

The woman meets my gaze as I stare at her over the top of the journal.

"Well, she looks like—"

"Fucking annoyed," my voice carries a coldness that I haven't felt since my previous life.