As I slowly awake from a groggy daze, I realize I’m in a place I don’t recognize. The air is stale and stagnant, with an odd moldy taste to it. I notice a blurry light above me, trying to make out where it’s coming from. As I become more conscious, I have a heart-dropping realization. The light is coming from a window; a window with cold, steel bars.
This light isn’t sunlight, but artificial. Suddenly, a deadbolt in the solid metal door clicks, and slowly creaks open. There standing in the doorway stand my two best friends, Alexa and Sarah, both wearing concerned yet disappointed looks on their faces.
“Again?!” said Alexa. “Why are we the ones that always have to come and bail you out of jail? Chris, you need help. You’re hurting yourself more than anyone here.
“I don’t care.” I said, stubbornly. “What I do is my business, and it makes me feel good. It has nothing to do with you, Alexa. And I will keep doing it as long as I live. No one can say otherwise. It’s how I get by through life.
“But it’s killing you,” interjected Sarah quickly. “We both care about you a LOT and it would kill both of us inside to see something happen to you. You need to understand that.”
I sighed with a touch of anger. “I know both of you care, but this is my way of coping with the pain. This is my way of escaping it all. You have NO idea of how much shit I have to deal with, how much pain I go through every day. It’s unbearable. There is no way you could comprehend the feeling of it.”
“We can help you through it. We always have and always will. Please know that,” pleaded Alexa. “Now come on, we’re going home. This place is starting to smell like hell…”
My car ride home was a rather unpleasant one. My conscious bombarded myself with hundreds of questions. Why do I always go through pain when I know I can do something about it? Will these pills actually help me more than hurt me? Why do I even keep going anymore? I was contemplating all of the questions in my mind with a lot of thought. I really wondered if I would ever be ok again. If the pain would stop, if the people would go away, if I could ever find anyone to be with a fuck-up like myself.
Our car pulled onto our cobblestone driveway, winding its way towards the garage. It was a chilly and cloudy autumn afternoon, with the oak, maple, and dogwood trees shedding their leaves subtly in the soft breeze. I had a sudden thought of peace and tranquility being here. It felt as if I had been set free. As if I was pure. The old, clunky car screeched as the brakes pulled the car to a stop in the double wide garage. I stepped out, looked around, and saw out of the corner of my eye in the window my mother. She had a worried look on her face, but we all knew that she was used to it. Used to the fact that I pass out from the pain pills I’m addicted to. Used to the drug busts on the streets. Used to the disappoint I bring to everyone around me.
“We’re home!” Sarah called out.
Suddenly the front door busted open and my jubilant, oblivious sister, Ruth, came running out with arms wide open. Apparently she hadn’t heard of what happened. Again…
“Chris! I’m so glad you’re home! We’ve missed you so much.”
“Oh, hey Ruth, “I said solemnly, sulking my head. “Yea I guess I’ve been gone for a while.”
I was trying to hide my feeling of not caring. I only knew that I would be disappointing my family yet another time if I told what happened, so I kept quiet. I went inside with a burning urge to take more of my pain pills to take away the already returning pain. I hesitated, looking around if anyone was there, if anyone was watching. I saw no one, and took two. But then I noticed that my mother had seen me take them, and I saw her just standing there, shaking her head in disapproval.
I immediately broke out in tears, and ran to my room, not knowing what I was going to do to myself. I ran down the long hallway, through the half-cracked open door, slammed it, and jumped onto my bed. I was face down in my sheets, crying my eyes out. It broke my heart to upset my mother, but she is part of the reason I hurt. Part of the reason I poison myself with these damn pills.
I turned to face right side up on my bed to see dozens of posters staring back at me. They are of bands and people that I listen to and respect. Things that understand and share my pain. Then I glance over and look at one particular one that always questions my existence. It reads: Do you make a difference? Or do you weigh everyone else down? I lay in thought for hours at a time thinking about that question. Thinking about the end, but then thinking about the people I would hurt by doing so. The people that I would leave behind…
