The Diary of a Fallen Girl

memories

I remember the first day I woke up surrounded by the color white, and unfamiliar faces. In fact, I remember the sunlight streaming in through the bars on the dusty windows, as if nobody bothered making sure that the room looked presentable. They probably figured anybody who ended up in my place was too miserable to care about cleanliness.

I remember the first thing I ate after waking up. It was jello. I remember the last thing I was forced to drink before waking up. The mixture was unbearably salty. In fact, it was simply just rock salt mixed into water, and I threw up.

I remember the first conversation I had with anyone that week. It probably wasn't actually the first, but it was the one that stuck around the clearest.

Her voice was soft spoken, and mine was hoarse from throwing up and sobbing and then throwing up some more. It didn't matter though, I felt nothing. I was numb, and she was not. I was no longer dying, but she still was. The only difference between us was the fact that she fought for her life, and I did not.

If I could go back in time and give her the life that I'd been trying to throw away, I would do it in a heartbeat.

Speaking of beating hearts, she no longer has one.

Her life ended long ago, but I promised myself to continue it for her. Many times I have almost failed, but due to some certain fate, I remain.

I digress, and then I end up back in the same white room where I started out. The windows are still dirty, and the sunlight is still murky. The saltwater still makes me throw up, but with each recurring instance, I find slight differences.

Being on the brink of death really changes your perspective on life. With all the time I've spent on the edge, I've made friends with the devil.

I remember the guilt in their eyes and how the third time left me permanently damaged, and I remember making friends with those who took care of me. I have met many people who are no longer alive, and to each of them, I have made a promise.

They may not be able to see their grandchildren grow or even live to fall in love, but they didn't have a choice. The difference between us is that I remain based off of my will. I may stay or go, whichever way I choose.

The while walls and dirty windows and sunlight may remain forever, but the soft spoken lady didn't, and neither will my urge to die.