Journey Back to Me

Chapter 2

8 Months Ago

"This can't be happening." It comes out as barely a whisper, but even as I speak the words, I know it's true. It is happening. Even though I thought I did everything right, I moved away from my hometown, I got a fresh start, I made new friends...it still wasn't enough. And now, here I am, on the verge of getting evicted. Tara and Bridgit are going to be pissed.

As soon as they cross my mind, I get the first text from Tara in our group chat, followed alost immediately by Bridgit's.

*Hey girl, what going on? Did you pay rent this month?*

*Dude wtf is this email about? If they fucked up our rent I swear to god I'm gonna lose my mind*

Even in my panicked state, I can't help but giggle at the stark contrast between my two roommates. Tara is so non-confrontational, while Bridgit almost seeks it out. It's charming, really.

I quickly text back, *It was on my end, something screwed up. I'll take care of it*

I called the front office to try and talk to them about giving me just 3 days, that's all I need until my paycheck comes on Thursday. When they say they'll accept it, just adding $50 a day, I lose it. Well, I guess there goes my plans on eating for the next few weeks. I start pacing in my room, still in my uniform.

Do it. The small voice in my head is starting up again. I try to push her away, but she seems to be back, and worse than ever. You're a burden on everyone. Financially, emotionally, romantically. It'd be better off for everyone if you just ended things. The voice in my head had never sounded right before, and it was starting to scare me that she was.

You really shouldn't be here. You know that. You're only hurting the people around you. You're draining them. Nobody can count on you for anything. Your emotions are all over the place, and even if you do live long enough to get a boyfriend, he'll leave you once he realizes how damaged you actually are.

I sit down on my bed because my head is pounding with all of these terrifying thoughts running through my head. With each passing second that feels like years, everything seems to make more and more sense. I start to weigh my options, and I stare at the bottle of pills on my dresser.

Go ahead and take the pills. The voice in my head is pushing me now, harder than ever before. I've been low, but never this low. You don't deserve love. You're not enough. Everyone would be better off without you. I'm not sure why I make this decision, but I decide that she's right. With all my baggage, I'm more of a burden than a necessity or even desire for anyone.

I quickly grab the water bottle and the bottle of pills from my nightstand. I take somewhere between twenty and thirty of the lamotrigine tablets before laying down on the couch. I cry until there are no tears left, then I fall asleep, letting my last thought be of my mother, and how she'll finally be free of the burden that was supposed to be her perfect daughter.

.................................................

"MICHELLE!!!" It sounds like Tara, but I'm not sure. My eyes feel too heavy to try and open them to check.

"Michelle, I swear to god, this better not be a prank. That would be so fucked up." Bridgit, for sure.

But I can't move, or even open my eyes. Before I can think about anything else, I can feel my body shaking violently. Am I doing that, or is someone else shaking me? And it sounds like someone is on the phone. Tara, maybe? And why is my face wet?

These questions swim through my head, along with a million others, but then I hear "Michelle, can you hear me?" in what sounds like a male's voice. God, how long have I been out of it? Have I been having seizures?

He repeats his question, and it takes every ounce of strength I have to open my eyes and look at the paramedic standing over me. Memories come flooding back. I utter one word that seems to send everyone in the room into a panic. "P-pills," I manage to stutter out before closing my eyes again.

"Michelle! Michelle, don't go to sleep, sweetie. What kind of pills? Where are they?"

Why does this man ask so many questions? I just want to doze off and never return.

Tara answers for me, "She has epilepsy, and she just got her prescription filled," and I hear her run down to my room. Why is everyone so concerned? I should've fallen asleep in my room so nobody would bother me.

The bottle of pills is shaking as she runs back to the living room. "Lamo...lamotr...I don't fucking know, but she takes it twice a day for her seizures." The words are tumbling from her mouth at an alarming rate and if I wasn't trying to sleep, I'd almost be impressed.

"And you said she just got the prescription filled?" The man with all the questions is so annoying.

"Yeah, this week." Is that panic in her voice? Tara is a lot of things, but scared has never been one of them.

Fuck, what have I done?

"There's only about ten pills in here. How often does she get this filled?"

"Once a month."

I listen to them piece everything together before they load me into an ambulance.

The ride seems really long, and when I get there, the reality of what I've done starts to set in. I can't believe it...I just attempted suicide.