The Unbecoming of Catrina Grace Baker

Catrina's Final Entry

6:19 PM

Dear Bob,

I know I am not talking to you in the usual way we talk, but I have a question for you: do you know what it feels like when your life is spiraling out of control? It’s like how you can’t seem to grip the steering wheel correctly during a torrential storm. The road is slippery and your tires are trying to hold onto the wet cement.

It’s like that feeling where you find out that something horrible has happened and you couldn't do anything about it. You stand there and for that little moment, you couldn't breathe. And while your heart is breaking, your mind spins and spins and spins. Your throat is dry and burning, and tears are threatening to spill over. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry,” you keep telling yourself. “Stop crying. Stop. Stop. Stop crying.”

My life’s sorta like that right now. Not only am I losing a battle, because I’ve lost quite a few of them, I’m losing this whole damned war they call life. I’m losing control and I think that I really should let go. Of the steering wheel. Of everything.

I don’t know what’s worse: being lied to, or being ignored. The signs were all there. Everything. Was. There. Well, except for a super hero to save me. From this horrid life. From everything. From myself. To tell you the truth, I am not feeling that anymore. Actually, I don’t feel anything anymore. I am numb and it’s so cold out there. 

Straight and fast, my brain is telling me. God, I wanted to go so badly. I wanted to go and I wanted that torrential storm to swallow me whole. I wanted to disappear. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Wouldn’t it? Straight and fast, my brain repeats, but it’s screaming now. I just want it to stop. I want everything to stop and I wish you were real so you could tell me how to stop it.

It doesn’t matter now. My mind is made up. I am no longer scared and I can no longer feel. My world has crashed- I’m sorry, I mean is crashing.

My world is crashing around me and I am done.

Bob, I sincerely hope that you don’t judge me for my giving up. I’m sorry, though. I really am. It’s just so hard and the signs were all there and I don’t know how to stop these chains of events that had stumbled upon each other to ruin my life even more. One after another, they knocked each other down like bowling pins, waiting for the strike that would finally take me out. I’m sorry. I am so very sorry.

Please tell them to let me in. Tell them to open the door, Bob. I'm getting so dizzy.

Always yours, Catrina Grace Baker