-yet to be titled-

The Memoir

Say "I Love You"

When it's quiet I think about suicide. Mom says that suicide is for the people who have real problems and that I can't possibly have any of those at just fourteen. Maybe I don't, maybe I've just been watching the movie Cyberbully too much. At least that's what mom says.
I've always been told to listen to my mother, that moms are always right, but I just can't shake the feeling that something's off. It doesn't make sense, I have every reason to feel happy and yet, that word never seems to stay in my vocabulary for too long.
Last year at the hospital, the doctor told me that friends are important, that I have to keep talking to people if I want to stay better. It seemed simple enough. Especially for mom, she just let me hang out with friends more. And it worked, well for awhile at least. I was feeling happy. But that was then, and this is now. And the second I stepped through those big high school doors everything changed.
All of a sudden it was weird to tell someone how much they meant to you. You had to get an A on every single assignment otherwise you were dumb. You had to wait at least five minutes before responding to a text or else you were clingy. All of a sudden a look on someone's face in a crowded hallway meant something so intricate and if you didn't stay awake until one o'clock in the morning trying to figure out what that look meant? You were weird.
To be honest I never really got the hang of things. I guess that made me an outcast. Don't get me wrong, I still had friends, but I only ever saw them when they needed a good laugh. One thing that always made me happy was seeing people smile and laugh. Big teethy grins that lit up rooms and always seemed to put a bandage over a piece of what was broken inside of me. That's why I always smiled. Because maybe there was an outcast like me, who needed someone to smile so they would feel a little less broken.
I always smiled.
So that's why everyone lost their minds when I stopped...
No more gasping laughs. No more beaming dimples or sly smirks. Not even the tiniest grin. Because, why? What was the point? People noticed but never cared. They would always say "Gabbie isn't smiling? Oh come on where's my happy camper?" I don't know. Maybe she's lost in the woods. Maybe she's dead. And as December freezes it's way into January I'm convinced more and more that the second is true. I'm dead. Even if I'm breathing I'm dead. My thoughts are jumbled in my mind, I can't sleep, I can't eat. I haven't gotten out of bed in four days, not even to shower.
I'm failing almost every class and I just don't care. All I have to do is fake a few coughs in the morning and I'm free from hell for a day. Free to be myself without the fear of offending someone or getting in the way. I can be sad for a day without my mom nagging on me to talk to my "friends" more or telling me that I've just watched the movie Cyberbully too many times.

    "You need to wake up." There was a click and light flooded my bedroom.
    "Wha-" I jumped and she yanked the thick blanket off of me, "Mom! I'm still sick. Leave me alone I need to stay home." I forced my stomach to contract in a deep cough. She only furrowed her thin eyebrows and crossed her arms.
    "You're lying. You aren't sick." she was deadly calm, "I see that your pill bottle is still full, you've been lying to me about that too." I felt the blood drain from my face and could only imagine her satisfaction.
"Wh- mom I'm sorry!  It's just- I don't like them! They make me feel like a zombie don't make me take them!" Frustration edged my tone and I willed her to understand.
A sickly smile spread over her face and her eyes narrowed. "That's just too bad now isn't it?" My heart turned to stone. "You've switched meds too many times! When will you grow up, Gabs?  Funny thing about medicine, it doesn't work unless you take it!" She turned, pausing in my doorway. "You know your guidance counselor called me last night. You're failing all of your classes and you haven't turned in an assignment since December." I winced as she finished.
My mind raced, heart pounding. How do I make you understand? "I feel like I'm on fire!" I scream, stepping over mounds of dirty clothes, "Every step I take is wrong. Every breath feels like its not mine, like I'm already gone. Why can no one see? I'm sad."
"Enough! We all have sad days. That doesn't mean you can just lay in bed and do nothing all day. So you will get up, you will get dressed, you will take your pill in front of me every morning, and you will not miss another day of school." Bringing her wrist up to read the time on the tiny clock she finished flatly, "You better get moving. You have a bus to catch in twenty minutes."
Stalking out she slammed the door, the force enough to make my whole room shake. Tears pricked at my eyes and my hands shook. That was it. That was it for me.