My Dear Lonnie

Letting Go

Who would have thought that I, Tiara Dommit, would be depressed. I was the life of the party.

I always had a smile on my face. If you were feeling down around me, I'd cheer you up within a second. It would be quicker than the speed of lightning, and that's saying something. Everyone always told me I should be comedian and that I had a knack for putting a smile on peoples' faces.

I mean, why not? I think everyone deserves to be happy, even the lowlife, good-for-nothing, clueless and empty, no-brained people who caused nothing but pain, and abused the people around them to their pleasure everywhere they went. Yes. They deserved to be happy, too.

I know. My ideology is crazy. But after spending so much time here in this facility, it made me realize things about myself. Things I realized about myself after you were gone.

I explored myself just like the doctor said. I explored my heart, my brain, my soul— my everything, even though right now, I had nothing left.

You left me here. All alone. I have nothing now. I watched you slip away from me as I was screaming for help. My therapist makes me relive that moment everyday. I hate her for it. I forgot that I was actually sitting here with her right now.

"So how are you today?" she asked

"I don't know. Same as usual I guess." I tried to smile but it turned into a silent tear gliding down my face.

She saw the tear and dove right in, as usual. She said, "You know the drill. Tell me about that day."

I said, "Do I really have to? I feel like you have that day etched into your mind just like I do. Don't you feel like you were there? Why do I have to repeat myself everyday? It doesn't help."

By the end of my rant, I was pulling on the stress bracelet she gave me after our very first session. She just looked at me as I plucked it. I realized she was watching. Waiting. Waiting for me to come back.

"Where did you go?" She asked readily to write down in her notepad.

I actually thought it was cliché. Her, this place, my situation. All of it. She wore red glasses and a gray skirt-suit. She had a notepad and a black pen. I guess that was her favorite because she had a cup of pens on her table stand which was right next to her comfy, padded, light green sofa seat.

"I'll ask again. Where did you go?"
"I don't want to do this today."
"You'll never make any progress."

She sounded so bored. Like this was a just job. Like it just paid her bills and helped support her lifestyle. Her tone was monotonous. Never changing. I think she's fed up with me, honestly. I reacted.

"I believe I've made progress. I barely spoke a month and a half ago. Now you get actual words out of me. I'd say that's big progress. I haven't spoken in a year. It scared me to hear my own voice. It's painful. Do you know how painful it is?" My voice started to crack.

"Sadly, I can't say I do. But we aren't here for me. We're here for you. So tell me about that day."

I stared at her. I listened to the clock tick for 37 seconds. I inhaled, then exhaled. I repeated this process four times. I was ready now. I clasped my hands together and shut my eyes.

"Okay." I let my mind wander to that awful day and voiced everything.

*1 year prior to this*

It was a sunny day in Jackson. I decided to surprise my little brother, Lonnie. It was summer so he had nothing to do. Plus, he was a kiddo. He wouldn't have anything to do.

I made my way to 217 Meridia Drive. I missed my brother. He was so much younger than me but he was my world. He always surprised me by his antics. He also had his own knack.

His knack was empathy. Empathy for me. Empathy for you. Empathy, period. No matter who, what, why, where, or how. He could empathize with you. It was such a powerful thing to me for him to be so young. He was 7 at the time and I had just turned 17.

I had plans for us to go the park and have ice cream. I arrived at my destination and he was already outside, in this killer heat. But we were used to it so no big deal.

He climbed in and then we left for the park. We enjoyed ourselves, taking turns to push each other on the swings. That was my favorite, but his favorite was the monkey bars. He had the biggest grin back then. I never wanted him to grow up.

We went to get ice cream and then everything went downhill. Out of nowhere, gunshots. Pow, pow, pow. I turned my head to find my brother. My precious, little, innocent brother.

I dropped my ice cream and ran to him. I shouldn't have turned my back. I shouldn't have walked away. I should have been right there. That should be me.

My brother had been shot. 3 times. One to the heart, one to the shoulder, one to the gut. Who would do this? To a 7 year old?? I watched my brother slip away from me and there was nothing I could do about it.

I screamed for help and people frantically called 911 for my sake. But it was too late. He was gone.

He left me. All alone. I was soaked in his blood and everyone was asking if I was okay. I didn't even hear them. I didn't respond. I had just lost the other half of my heart. I didn't just lose him, I lost myself— my soul that day.

It was unreal. Was this a dream? The paramedics arrived and pried my hands off of my brother's body. I hated that I had to let go.

I had to let go.
I had to let go.
I had to let go.
I had to let go.

I

Had

To

Let

Go.

But why? Why'd you have to go? Why did you leave me? Why won't you come back? Wasn't I enough? Did you know I loved you more than you could ever imagine?

I'd do anything to have you back. I don't want to let go. Not now, not ever. What did I do to deserve this all of this crashing pain? I asked God why.

Why wasn't it me? Why was it you? I could never forgive myself. I blamed myself. I hated myself. I quit speaking. I wanted nothing more than to die. I wanted to be with you. I attempted suicide just to be with you.
**

That's when they put me here, before this woman who didn't give a damn about me or my well-being. She didn't give a damn about all of the thoughts I had in my mind.

She didn't understand. No one did. I held onto a lifeless body as it spewed blood like a waterfall. It was more like a busted water balloon after you threw it at someone with plenty of force.

I'd never forget the smell, the people, the way I felt. I still feel that way today, but it's much harsher. The reminder that you aren't here. The constant arguing with myself. Me pulling my hair out. Me trying to solve a stupid puzzle to answer a question no one knows the answer to.

You left me all alone. You took my heart with you. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at myself. If you can hear me, please let me know you're doing okay.

Don't I sound ridiculous? I see why I'm in this facility now. I didn't see myself getting better anytime soon.

I asked, "Are we done for today?"
"No. I want you to stand up and look out of my window."

I went to the window and saw my family holding a banner with a picture of Lonnie & me. The tears came, but they never stopped. My poor Lonnie.

Why'd you have to go?

My therapist was about to send me to my room, but while she wasn't looking, I snuck a pen in my hand. They shut the door and locked it behind me after I was escorted to my room. I guess now is just a perfect time as any.

I can't stand it Lonnie. I miss you. Why'd you have to go? Well since you're gone now, I'm coming, too.

I wrote on my hand, "I'm sorry." I then proceeded to sharpen the pen until it was rather pointy. After, I stuck the pen into my throat until I couldn't breathe anymore. I watched the lights fade away.

Hi, Lonnie. My dear Lonnie.

You left me all alone but now I'm here with you. I missed you. My dear Lonnie.