Out of This World

Chapter One

I was exhausting to deal with.

I knew I was.

But for some reason, people still seemed hell bent on reminding me of it.

"This is the last time I'm paying for one of your little vacations," she said, trying to cover the fear in her voice with sarcasm, "so stop staring out the window and listen to me. This place is good, better than the others. It's going to help you, and you're going to let it. Okay?"

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. My mother was right - I needed to stop doing this. If I knew how, I would.

But I didn't.

All I knew how to do was continue the cycle of exhausting everyone around me.

"Marina, listen to me."

"Yes, mother."

"You're going to get better, okay?"

"Yes, mother."

"You're going to heal."

"Yes...mother."

Part of me wanted to heal. Part of me wanted to be better, be okay, and learn to love myself. To rid myself of the shit show in my head that kept bringing me back to this situation...but another part wanted nothing more than to stay sick and twisted. to run right into the fire and let it consume me. To give it permission to take over for good.

The hills outside the car window rolled by. This place was new, and I didn't recognize anything around us. It was the country, which was probably intentional on my mother's end. It was less likely for me to break out if there was nowhere to go.

I thought about what I had said only days before, what I had promised my family.

That I wouldn't dare have more breakdowns. No more hospital beds and warmed blankets and patient nurses. That I wouldn't do it again.

I had promised that the last few times, though. Then my mind became flooded with thoughts of setting the world on fire, like it did every time, and I was right back to where I started.

Jumping off a roof straight into my grave.

Literally. I had dug a hole and everything.

It didn't work, it never did. And then everyone just wanted to talk about it. But how do you tell someone you love that you wish you were dead?

"Weren't you the one always telling me to make my mental health a priority?" I asked, snapping back for the first time all day, first time since the decision was made.

"That was before you dropped out of school and..." she trailed off. I knew she wasn't going to say it.

"What?" I pressed, "before I went crazy? Before I jumped off the roof to stop my brain from burning up?"

"I can't even follow that thinking, Marina."

"Me neither, mother. So don't worry, you're not the crazy one."

Being depressed was weird. I could go through serious, traumatic things and be just fine, but I drop something on the floor and I want to kill myself.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her look over at me. There was frustration, but a hint of sadness. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen her without it, the last time I saw her smile.

I had to bite my tongue and take a deep breath. I knew this wasn't easy on her, but it wasn't like I enjoyed it.

For the most part.

"I am sorry I am the way I am. But technically, it's your fault. You could've aborted me like dad wanted to. That would've solved all your problems, and you'd have a lot less to worry about. So would I, actually. I didn't ask to be born."

"And I didn't ask for a daughter like this. You're using up all your get-out-of-jail-free cards, you know. You can't keep running every time you feel like the world's a little too heavy. You can't just decide to off yourself. You're selfish...why do you think your father isn't here."

Ouch. Harsh.

She could tell she had gone too far, that she had crossed a line. Parents were aloud to think nasty things about their children, but they weren't allowed to say them out loud.

She had a point, though. My father loved me, undoubtedly more than my mother did, but he was never the one dropping me off or picking me up. After the first time, he checked out more than I did. He lived at the office when I was home. I was eavesdropping one night and overheard my mother on the phone, telling someone that he was home a lot more when I was gone.

It sucked, but I couldn't say I didn't understand. Like I said, I was exhausting.

"I'm not going to say I understand what you're going through," she started, trying to make up for what she had said, but I cut her off.

"Good, you shouldn't," I insisted, "saying that is the absolute worst thing you can say to a person with this problem. Because I can promise that you don't. And you never will."

I was so sick of people pretending to understand what this was like. My mother was the worst about it. At least my father had the decency to screw off with things got rough.

"Why did you do it, Marina? Why did you put us all through this again?"

As if I wanted to.

"This isn't like a phase, it isn't a trend," I sighed. I was so tired of having to explain what was going on inside my brain when I didn't even understand it myself. "It's not like a new pair of jeans I can just take off when they don't look cute anymore. This is my life, and I'm going to be this way for the rest of it. You know this, mother. How many doctors have we seen?."

We were having the same conversation we had every time we made this drive, and it wasn't like this drive wasn't a common occurrence.

I didn't know why I was surprised.

"I just wish you would be happy for once."

"It doesn't work like that, mother. I can't just choose to be happy. I can't just realize everyone else has problems too. I can't just suck it up and all of a sudden be able to do all the things I wish I could. I'm sick."

"It's not like you have cancer."

Jesus Christ.

"That's dramatic, mother."

"Well then tell me what isn't," she started to get. She never did that. "Tell me what you feel like, please."

"I feel like I'm only living a half-life. I'm half-way falling from a rooftop, I'm half-way drowning in the tub. It's like as much as I want to complete something, anything, the world won't let me. I can't be all in, and I can't be out completely. Maybe someday it'll change, and I'll end up catching like wildfire. Maybe someday I'll learn how to do something whole, be someone whole, and I'll have the cure to whatever the hell's going on in my head. But today, I'm going to keep living in this secret world full of half-truths and half-lies."

"So you're lying?"

Is that seriously all she got out of that?

"Come on mom, that was one of my best monologues to date. I thought you'd be proud, maybe even take me back home."

"Marina..."

"I know. I...I just needed the world to stop for a little while."

"Well," my mother sighed, "you got your wish. We're here."

Authors Note:

Hey guys! This is a new book I've been working on. The first draft is actually done, so I'll be uploading chapters more frequently. Let me know what you think!