Fixing Anna

Chapter 2: Stranger

People say that depression is like a black hole- a vortex- where everything gets sucked into darkness.

They lie.

Depression is like the fog- like smoke that slowly creeps into your life. Slowly obscuring your vision, making everything a blur, taking away all the color around you until all you have is pure white. You know you are alive and awake because you can see it but you can't see anything besides it. The sounds start to drift away and the fog slowly envelopes you until nothing is left.

I am in that fog and if I stay longer, I will cease to exist.

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The sound of my alarm broke through my dreamless sleep. I looked at my phone and realized it was already past noon. I couldn't tell what time it was because my room remained dark. I remembered drawing the blinds close last night.

I burrowed further under the covers wishing that I could stay in bed forever.

Last night when my friends left, I stood rooted on the spot for what felt like hours. I waited for the tears to come, to hear my heart breaking once again, but none of it came. I just felt tired. So very tired.

My mind wandered to the razor I've kept behind the medicine cabinet in my bedroom. My feet treaded towards the direction before I even made the decision. With trembling hands, I opened the cabinet and found the brand new blade.

I wanted to cut myself. I could do it horizontally just so I could watch myself bleed. To feel pain. Anything to make me less numb. I could cut vertically if I wanted to make sure that I would be free from it all.

I swallowed hard and pressed the blade into my left wrist. My heartbeat thundered in my chest and in that fleeting moment, everything was clear. I pressed the blade even further, feeling the cold steel against my pale skin. As I added more pressure, I saw blood.

But before I could drag the blade across my skin, the rational part of my brain kicked in. I threw the blade into the sink and hurriedly looked for a towel to apply pressure onto my wound.

I am too rational to cut myself.

I am too cowardly to commit suicide.

I am pathetic.

I felt like I was in the eye of a tornado. I can see the powerful winds destroying all that is around me, and yet I was left at its center unharmed yet unable to breathe.

Everything was thrown into chaos, into frantic movement and all I could do was watch in horror as it destroys my life. I can't move forward because I'm afraid of getting caught in the whirlwind. I can't step back for the very same reason. So I was rooted at the center and I wait for the tornado to finally take me too.

I forced myself out of bed. I needed help. That much I know. But how can I find professional help without sounding the warning bells that would surely push my mother into a panic attack?

What I need is a diversion. I need to find a way to get myself out of this fog even if I had to lie and pretend that I'm okay. If I lie often enough, I might start believing that it was the truth.

After taking a refreshing bath which did nothing to improve my mood, I put on a nice t-shirt and jeans. I didn't bother dressing up. I had no one left to impress. I checked my reflection before I got out. What I saw was a girl with haunted brown eyes, shallow cheeks that didn't blush, and an unattractive lean figure.

I sighed. What do I care if I looked attractive? There is no one I wanted to attract.

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