Life Vs. Illness

MARKUS, 3

I guess I have an event to discuss with...no one. First off, two months ago was March 22, 2013. On its own it's a day to be remembered by all fans of the band My Chemical Romance but for me I guess it's something different. Everyone sobbed and cursed because of the band's breakup although they had a damn near perfect run. And just like them I guess I ended things at the perfect time.

In case you journal stalkers haven't caught on in the first entry I'm screwed up. I don't just hurt naturally I hurt myself unnaturally. I used to slit my wrists over every problem I ever had. But the key word is the past tense 'used to'. I've stopped since that day two months ago, March 22, 2013, and today my arms look...not fucked up. They look like regular arms instead of a teenager who has a depression condition. I stopped that day and it gave me a reason to smile because today was the first day my brother felt my wrists and smiled at me.

He does this because he was the first one to ever know I cut myself and wants to make sure I'm okay. I remember when he walked in on me in the middle of the 'process' about two months before the accident. I was ten and he was six and he was as innocent as I was. I had gotten unusually depressed and as an innocent sensitive ten year old, took offense and was hurt by any malicious comment towards me. Lousy and misleading friends had told me about it and like a single mom with cigarettes, after one time I was hooked. Except it wasn't my lungs I was damaging

But today was the reward I had been waiting for ever since March 22, 2013. Today when I visited David in the Psychiatric Ward it started off as usual. There was a moment of Inactivity, as if he knew I was here but he was fighting against himself to gather himself up and clean up. He looked up at me and I could see the enlivened expression on his face because he both no longer had to stare into the white walls and that he could talk with the only one that could make him laugh. His smile made me smile and he hugged me. Although he was younger and smaller I felt like he was the one holding me up. He beckoned me to sit down and asked me,

"How are you man, it's been forever."

"I've been alright, and you have no clue with school. It takes forever for two hours to pass by in that prison."

We both began to giggle and snicker but I realized how senseless I was to not consider how locked up he must feel every day. Being forced to speak to a therapist and put on medication almost like a lab rat (if it weren't for laws it'd be quite literal). I looked down with a grim expression on my face and David noticed.

"Hey? It's alright no worries."

After he reassures me with these words he simultaneously grazed his fingers lightly over exposed arms. He lightly grinned and looked into my eyes and said to me,

"Thank you..."

For a second I wondered why he thanked me for it but I dismissed it and responded with,

"Don't thank me for that but hopefully this."

This was a signal for my father to walk in with a warm fresh bag of fast food from Arby's. His eyes lit up again and the three of us talked of how bad the food was, life, school, and jobs; and for the next ten minutes I think I can consider it the best moment of my life.