A Freaking Supernova

Cigarettes and Cinnamon

"Hope rises like a phoenix fron the ashes of shattered dreams." -S.A. Sachs
Listen to beautiful by Eminem.

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When therapy started, I had to visit my doctor once a week. He prescribed me medications which would help me to cure my psychological problems. I stared at the medicines in stark disbelief. They were alot.

There was no way I was going to swallow this much tablets. 3 capsules. Each morning.
I didn't even bother to buy them, just kept the money in a Silver chest at the back of my drawer.

I had this chest since I was seven. Aunt Muriel had bought it for me from England. It was antique and quite beautiful. It was made of wood, with various carvings on it, covered in silver. There was an ancient Golden lock to it along with a Golden key.

I didn't know what to do with it at first, stowing it at the back of a cupboard where it lay forgotton for some time. Then one day I found it while my room was being repainted.

I started to keep my most prized possesions in it, locking it securely afterwards and hiding the key. It was half full by now, containing birthday gifts from Marie, a sparkly T-shirt too small for me now, a locket with "Best Friend forever" engraved on it and a bunch of other accessories.

There was a gift from Nathan, which I wanted to dispose, but didn't have the strength to.

It also had a diary, which contained the signatures and wishes of all my classmates and teachers since Kindergarten. It was reassuring to go through the diary occassionally and read their various comments on me.

It reminded me of better times, when things were far less complicated. When the only worry I had was that why weren't we having chocolate for dinner instead of rice and stew. Typical.

Dang, the medicines were expensive. There was quite a bit of money in my chest by now. But no medicines meant I was at risk more than ever. I was stuck between nightmares and thoughts throughout the night. Somewhere between the sobs, I grew restless and jumped out of my bed at 4:30 in the morning.

Going downstairs, trying my utmost to distract myself, I thought of preparing breakfast. Suprisingly I found dad on the sofa reading some book.

"Goodmorning sunshine." He smiled at me.

"Uh, hi dad.." I replied, unsure what to do.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his brow creasing with worry, as he took in my tear stained face and haggard appearance.

Seeing his kind face filled with worry over such a menial thing like me, I broke down, crying. He welcomed me into his arms and I cried over his shoulder.

Amusing thing was that I wasn't crying over myself, I was crying because I had caused people around me so much worry and pain. It was partly the reason I didn't open up to anyone. Partly. But right now I didn't have the strength to act it out. So I just cried.

"Its okay my darling.Its okay. " He whispered and kissed my forehead.
I inhaled in his scent deeply, cigarette and cinnamon, which calmed my nerves.

"Lets go out for a walk. But take a bath first." He said after the crying had subsided.

I went upstairs towards my room and stood under the shower, the cold water splashing over my face, doing good to my brain. After my bath I slipped into something comfortable, a blue T-shirt and ripped jeans.

I ditched the hijab since I thought there wouldn't be anyone out at this time. But just before exiting my room, I put it on, out of habit. Or maybe it just gave me a sense of ease and protection.

Soon we were out on the road. The cold morning air felt very refreshing while my father's presence was comforting. I broke into a grin after ages.

"Who would have thought, my daughter grew up so quickly. Its astonishing." My father said while I laughed.

"Are you taking your medicine regularly?" My father enquired, suspicion hanging in the air.

"Not really." I sighed and stared dejectedly at the concrete.

"You should dear. Make sure you take it regularly now." My father replied and I was surprised I didn't receive any angry outburst.

"No actually.." I started, voicing an idea that had been going on in my head lately. "What if I don't? I mean what if I just stop visiting the doctor and depend on my willpower to block those thoughts?"

I knew I was stating the impossible. Willpower? Didn't look like I had any.

"Hmm. I am not sure Sarah. Talk to your doctor first. But honey, we all get these thoughts at some point of our life. Don't worry. Yours are recurring and more alarming I know, but they will go away eventually. They not yours. Remember that. " He said.

"Thanks dad." I smiled and then we headed to a restaurant for breakfast.

The food was amazingly delicious. I ate two club sandwiches alongwith pancakes, a chocolate muffin and a cappucino. I had skipped dinner last night but my ravenous appetite seemed to have returned.

My father, smoking a cigarette, his morning ritual, chuckled when he saw me gorge myself like I had been out of food for days.

Sipping my coffee, I remembered what the doctor had told me on my last session. I was the only one who could stop these awful thoughts. If I lost hope and stopped trying, no medicine would be able to cure my ailing mind.

I decided right then. I would ditch the doctor and really depend on my willpower. I would block them, as impossible as it may seem.

This was a dangerous risk, and I might end up with self-harm like before, but as I looked at my father, smiling at me, I knew this was a milestone I had to overcome myself.