Alison Jade Jorgensen had it all - wealth, beauty, and the adoration of those around her. At eighteen, she was the epitome of privilege, shielded from the harsh realities of life by her affluent family.
But when her beloved grandfather passes away j...
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Courtney Eaton as Alison Jade Jorgensen
2015
I always used to look forward to summer, the warmth of the sun on my skin and the endless possibilities that came with it. But now, here I am, lying on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The weight of grief is suffocating, and I can't seem to shake it off.
My Gramps, my father's father, was my rock. He was the one who taught me how to ride a bike, and how to make the perfect grilled cheese sandwich. He was my confidant, the one I could always turn to when life got too overwhelming. But now, he's gone, and my world has turned upside down.
The ends of my hair tickle the sides of my neck, a constant reminder of the drastic decision I made in the throes of grief - cutting off my long locks without a second thought. It was an impulsive move, but somehow it felt right. Grief has a way of making us act without thinking, as long as it matches the pain we feel inside.
My grandfather's death was sudden and unexpected, and it's left me feeling empty and lost. For months, I've been trapped in a fog of depression, my days blending into each other in a monotonous cycle of sadness. I see the world through tinted glasses of gray, and the once bright and colorful world is now dull and lifeless.
There's a void inside me, slowly consuming me from within. It's a strange feeling of emptiness, spreading throughout my entire body, leaving me numb to the world around me. I don't want to face the reality that he's gone, that I'll never hear his voice or see his smiling face again. It's too painful to bear.
I find solace in the four walls of my bedroom, where I can hide away from the world and the pain that comes with it. It's big enough to hold all the memories I have of Gramps, and I don't need anything else. I don't want to leave the safety of my room, where I can pretend that everything is still okay.
My parents suggested seeing a therapist, but I couldn't bring myself to go past the fifth session. Talking about my pain only made it more real, and I didn't want to face it. I wanted to keep it locked away, hidden deep inside me where no one could see it. But the pain is always there, lurking just below the surface, waiting to come back and consume me once again. Since then, I isolated myself to where I could have my own safe space. Just me and my music.
The house that used to be my safe haven is now nothing but a painful reminder of everything that has been taken from me. I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to avoid any thoughts of that place. My hair falls in disarray around me, a symbol of my shattered life. It's been months since my Gramps passed away, but the wound in my heart still feels fresh.
My family thinks that talking to me will help me move on from this depressing stage, but they couldn't be more wrong. It's not that easy. Breathing fresh air outside only makes me feel suffocated. Every time I leave my room, I am reminded of all the things I've lost.
