Untouchable

September

Another piece of me is gone again

The summer was hot and heavy. I met up with Paul every so often and bought heroin off him. I got the money by stealing things and selling them. It was a terrible lifestyle, but I couldn't escape it. I was riddled with scars and sores and burns. My father paid no heed to me, which made the destruction easy. If I wasn't on heroin I was shaking and nauseous which helped in cutting weight. I dreamt of death every night, and could never tell if I was awake or asleep.

Summer ended and school started up again, and I neither felt happy nor sad. I was done with feeling--I had destroyed all of my emotions, and along with that, myself. I never really thought about dignity until now. I guess you only ever want something after you've lost it. I would never get it back. Everything I lost over the summer was gone for good. I had done permanent damage to myself, and I wasn't the only one who noticed.

The Barbies didn't even bother with bullying me anymore. Even they thought I was beyond their attention. People looked at me weird. Before, I would pass by them like a shadow; but now, they noticed. They talked about it too. They whispered to their friends when they thought I was out of ear shot, but I heard. I heard their nasty words, but they didn't hurt me--not like how it would have last year.

"She looks terrible!"

"Talk about poster child for everything you're not supposed to do."

"That bitch is messed up man. Holy shit."

"You should make a movie about her in your film class and call it daddy issues."

The sun blazed through the window, blinding my eyes. I was tired of that damn sun sucking all of the life out of my body. I liked rain, I liked darkness. People complained about bad weather making them gloomy. The sun made me gloomy. It shined and gave life to everything but me. Why would I like the sun?

September won't you bring me some rain again?

Grade ten was already so much different than grade nine. I still didn't fit in, but I didn't stick out--I didn't fall prey to anyone. I was my own predator. For now I was fine with that--I didn't want any confrontation. But I knew deep down I was soon going to get tired of being invisible. One could only enjoy being alone for so long.

But I wasn't completely alone . . . I had my dark, damaging thoughts to keep me company. They enjoyed my presence, and loved to come out and play at night. They hid under the bed, and in my closet--just like your childhood monsters. Except my monsters were real, and they hurt me, but I couldn't do anything about it; turning the light on wouldn't purge them, hiding under my covers wouldn't protect me. They were inside me. They turned my veins black, made my heart cold. Sometimes I found myself scratching, trying to rid myself of them, but it was no use. They were in my brain--there was no way to fix me now.

I pondered visiting my mother after school--it had been almost a year--but I didn't want to get in trouble from my dad. Whatever happened after that car incident he changed. His drinking had doubled. Before the accident, if he talked to me, it was in a monotonous voice. Now, he yelled at me. He resented me much more than before. I didn't do it often, because it always brought great amounts of pain; but sometimes, at night, I would listen to his music, and I would feel. It was like the claustrophobic bubble that I was trapped in burst every time, and his music filled me with life. Unfortunately, the only life it gave me, was negative.

I decided I needed to pay my mother a visit, but who said I needed to do it after school? As soon as second block was over, I was gone. Unfortunately I didn't have any change to ride the bus, so I had to walk in the sweltering heat.

This sun is melting my skin

I stayed in the shadows of the buildings, avoiding the mass amount of pedestrians. I got a wide array of looks from different people. Most gave me dirty looks, while others showed pitty, or sympathy. Some held confusion--why would a teen be walking around during school hours wearing long sleeves in this heat? A few were scared of my presence, some were sad. But none of it affected me.

Again, I didn't know if that was good or bad.

And maybe if I pretend that
if it's out of sight, it's out of mind

Eventually, I ended up at the cemetery. The rusty iron hinges screamed in protest as I walked through the entrance. I travelled down the path, keeping my eyes low. You had to leave the path to get to my mothers grave, but I knew the way without looking where I was going. I didn't bother worrying about bumping into my father--he wouldn't be here; I doubted he had visited the place in years. The rejected grave stood lonely on the hill, the only evidence of it ever being cared for was a tiny brown mound next to it--could have been a bouquet, could have been a leaf.

"Hey Mom," I recited as I sat down on the protruding root of a tree. "I'm sorry I don't have any flowers to decorate your grave with. I feel guilty--a queen deserves to showered in many things, flowers especially; but I, I've wasted away all of my money." Emotions came surging to the surface, threatening to break loose at any moment. "I made a mistake Mom. A terrible one." I sucked in a breath as the tears began.

Lost and useless

All of the sadness in my body was finally escaping. All of the pain over the past few months came boiling over like a forgotten pot. I tried to get past the tears and confess everything to the one thing left that would listen: a flag of stone representing my mother.

"I met a boy that I knew wasn't good for me, and he, did things. He took things--I'm sure you can imagine. He was my first love, and I fell so, so hard. I was so stupid--I never should have payed attention to him--but I couldn't help it. I just wanted to be wanted. You must understand--you have to understand. I did it because I'm so alone. It's not my fault it really isn't!" I paused. I didn't know who I was trying to convince more. Myself, or the grave. "But the point is, I made a bad decision, and now I'm addicted to it." I could barely muster the courage to bring my words above a whisper. It was so hard to admit out loud what I had done. "I did heroin Mom," my voice quavered, "and I can't stop."

Tears streamed down, and sobs shook my body. I huddled there beside the grave as a small breeze blew over me. It almost felt like a small weight had been lifted from my chest. Unfortunately, as good as it felt, the problem was still there.

September falls away 'till I'm broken

"It's so bad now, Mom. It's so bad. I know I've complained before about my life, but I don't think I ever imagined that it would hurt this much. My plan was to die, but I didn't think dying would take this long. Nor did I imagine it would hurt this much--and it's not a stinging pain either. It aches, and it's so much more painful than any cut or burn or hit I've ever experienced. I just want it to end, and then it can get better. Things at home are even worse. What little support I had is gone--everyone hates me, even Carly who doesn't have a wicked bone in her body. I messed up Mom. I messed up terribly."

It's changing me for good

I reached down and flicked an ant from my shoe. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now Mom. My heart is broken and it's refusing to heal, I'm so messed up I can't go more than four hours without smoking heroin, and no is here to help. I don't know why I came here today. I guess I just really needed to get out of school, away from the crowds, away from everything that reminds me of the terrible decisions I've made. Maybe I came here to let you know, I'll be seeing you soon. How, I'm not sure yet, but I have an idea. You're not going to like it, but who could like anything about me?"

And I would give you anything to feel something else