"Are you ready to go son?" came Gegly's voice breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Yes." I said. He asked me to call him his name. Birgit did the same too. She did that from the first time we met at the NGO when Dorah Banca had my papers signed and said I'll be living with her. Birgit smiled and hugged me telling me not to worry, telling me they'll take care of me. Then I have been diagnosed with bipolar II and hypomania. I don't even know what that was, I only wished I died too.
Before we got to Sicily our boat fell apart and I watched people drown before I lost consciousness myself. It was slow death at first then violent, then calm then nothing.
I woke up in a hospital in Sicily. The Open Arm team rescued me and some others. I stood up throbbing and shouting to see my brother but all I could get minutes later was that they only rescued 11 of us and that my brother died at sea. Right there I fell down hoping the earth would slip open and drown me. They grabbed me and strapped me to bed and injected me.
The two weeks in Sicily was me trying to kill myself. I tried using a knife but couldn't. I tried poisoning myself with some liquid I found in the hospital's toilet, but I was caught. It was there I was sent to a psychiatric hospital. They said I was depressed. I was placed on Zoloft. I cut my wrists with cannula, blood gushed out. I asked them to let me die and on the sight of water even in a bottle, I wanted to die. I wanted all the water in me to drain out but they never allowed me.
YOU ARE READING
The Migration (A Boy Story)
Non-FictionJust like rainbow comes after storms, everything change like the rising and setting of the sun, slow and quick at the same time, hurting and burning with every mile I kept hopping and wishing it was a dream. As a child all I wanted was for my dream...
