Broken Girls & Broken Bottles

She Died.. I Let Her

         We started going to a new church where I was extremely reluctant to attend, because it didn't have my friends from my old church. I ran into Brian S. ,who was the pastors son, and also my classmate that I had a huge crush on. We became a little closer since we started attending church together. He started waving to me in school and he became my excitement for school again. I always liked how he dressed in school and at church. He was very flamboyant in his attire, wearing peach suits with ties and dress shoes. He was the boy of my dreams.

When I started cutting myself he was the only one who noticed. He grabbed my arm in class and started questioning me about it. He asked me why I did it, I told him my cat scratched me and it wasn't a big deal. He replied, "Cats don't have seven claws, why are you lying?". I was shocked, why was he pressing the issue, does that mean he cared about me? I denied it again, I told him it wasn't a big deal. He said, "You're doing it for attention then.", I was hurt. Not because it wasn't true but he said it in a tone of disgust and turned away from me. This put a dent in our relationship, he barely looked at me and barely talked to me at church anymore. I was devastated.Why didn't I tell him the truth? I was embarrassed. I was crying out for help but felt like I didn't want any or couldn't take any

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            I started taking thumbtacks to school, I would chew on them in class because it made me feel good. Listening to a lecture while feeling my mouth bleed. I used the excuse that my tooth was bleeding to go to the bathroom. Just to go cry away from people staring at me. I would sit there with my face in the palm of my hands, and cry about the argument my mom and I got into about that morning (which was most mornings for us). I would also sit and think about how I wasn't good enough like Jean to get good grades.

         It's not that I wasn't listening, but the letters would get big and small, I could reread the same word over and over and still have no idea what I'm looking at. My letters were backwards at the first sight of concentration, my thoughts would become louder than the other voice reading the words on the page.

Silence kills me. I hear everything that assists with a quiet room. I hear the clock ticking every single second, I hear the pencil tap, I hear the lights projecting electricity, I hear your dirty shoes scraping the ground as your brain doesn't let you settle, and if I focus hard enough on trying to focus (even though I can't), I can hear your thoughts. Not the dialogue, the energy that assists it based off of your eye movement, the stimulated parts of you..

        So when I sat there in that quiet bathroom, with my hands holding my head, I'd hear my thoughts screaming at each other. Becoming two separate entities. There was Nora, who was innocent in her approach to life, ignorant was the kindest adjective I could use for her. Nora was abrupt, explosive, and empathetic towards others and herself. She was in love with the idea of love, finding it in every flower, every breath of fresh air, every stride in her walk was as if making fairytales a reality.

       Nora died in 2012 when I was eleven years old. It was a harsh and hurtful goodbye. She died so suddenly, that I didn't have time to make things right with her. Everything I exposed her to mentally, opening different portals within her mind; she couldn't handle it. She left me and I stepped in. Let me explain..

         It was a regular day of school for me. I enjoyed Spanish class with Mrs. R, all my friends, and other comedic acquaintances. I'd chew on thumbtacks in her class because I was genuinely engaged in the learning, and this class made just as much sense as music class. I headed to band class next with Mr. N, my band teacher and later in life, my former boss. I loved band class. I truly loved making music and learning how to speak in code with music notes. I was creating my own storyline with what made my ears feel sympathetic and harmonic.

        I had a friend named Katie M., seems like a Virgo when I think about her. We were good friends for a while, we both played clarinet and sat second row. We would laugh and help each other with homework; but just like everyone else, she looked at me as indifferent. That's not this story though. She watched me chew on thumbtacks in English or history class together and brought it up in band. She asked me why I had them, why I was chewing on them, and if it hurt.

 I told her the pain felt good and that I had swallowed one.

I don't know why. It was a dumb mistake that I have always regretted.

I continued with my day normally, headed to gym class next. I was ready to play dodgeball with the boys. I got dressed in the bathroom as normal, and put my stuff in my gym locker, along with my open pack of thumbtacks. I went into the gym and we began to stretch, then we started to bring the dodgeballs out to play with the boys.

Dodgeball was one of my favorite gym activities, and especially when the boys came to play with us, because it meant we got to throw the balls extra hard at each other. The teachers would do a game of girls vs. guys first, and then would mix us in together. This was my favorite part because it meant I got to hit every single one of them girls super hard who would talk shit about everyone. I

  I didn't get to play a full game that day, because they came into the gym all subtly, then went to my teacher and started whispering amongst themselves. I barely noticed. I was in the middle of aiming at my friend Daven G.'s head. Mrs. A, my gym teacher, called out to me and told me I needed to speak with the principal and guidance counselor.

Mr. Ak, the assistant principal, took me into the hallway and told me I needed to grab my things. I told him everything was in the locker room. As I began walking towards the door, he followed me into the locker room with the guidance counselor (A woman). 

He yelled, "Is there anyone in here?", and pointed for me to go inside. At this point I was equally scared as I was confused.

 Then he said it, and I knew I fucked up.