The Journals of Wade Dillans: The Four Seasons of August

August 19

PART IV - SPRING

August 19, 1999 (10:00 AM)

I can't say that I've healed. I'm still unstable, as the doctors said. And, I have this pain in my chest. It's boring in here for me. It's sad and the blue colored walls make it even sadder. Sometimes, I think "Why didn't I die?" That fall could have easily broken my bones, ruptured something or at least made a dent. I wanted to go anyway, so... Why didn't I?

The heart rate monitor beside me is still beeping. I don't know why it is.I don't want to die, specially today.  I don't want people to celebrate my death and my birth at the same time. I don't want that. But if I do, I would appreciate it if they would just forget it as if I never lived, breathed ar took my first steps.

August 19, 1999 (3:00 PM)

I wouldn't say that I had a bad life, but I made certain decisions that were wrong. Like the obvious ones: Jumping off a building and calling my mother a slut. Although she did say sorry and I said sorry too -for calling her a slut. 

The news of me attempting suicide travelled fast around town. Whispers and rumors at first, then they turned into talks and these talks were overheard by reporters, then I was in the local news. By evening everyone in town knew my name and they were puzzled by the reason why I tried to jump, to end it all, to die. 

I've had chest pains all day and it hurts so badly. It only started today but I didn't and won't tell anyone because they're already too worried about me. I think it's only temporary though, because it doesn't really hurt that much. Usually these kinds of things heal, just like wounds and cuts, they disappear after a day or two.

August 19, 1999 (10:00 PM)

It was such a surprise. It all made me think why I tried to kill myself. I'm grateful for the people who did all of it to me. The people who made me rethink what I did. 

Today is my birthday. Every birthday deserves a feast, whether the feast is superb or just a meal, For me, It was just a meal that did not meet the standards of tastiness but met the standards of health and nutrition, as stated by the hospital and people who I thought was the cause but was not, instead they were the people who could fix it. They all came here. Mom, Mr. and Mrs. Cross, Dianna but Alice was nowhere in sight.

They sang happy birthday for me. They ate the food that mom prepared while I ate the bland hospital food. Although, they promised to treat me when I got out of the hospital. 

By eight-thirty visiting time was over and everyone had to go home. I was happy and at the same time, I was dismayed. Happy that even if things looked blurred and irreparable, everything turned out fine and maybe even better. And, Dismayed that Alice didn't come. Dismayed that one person might still be angry at me. Dismayed that there might still be something wrong.

At about nine in the evening, someone knocked on the door. Mom answered it expecting that it was a nurse checking on me. But it wasn't, it was Alice. She looked the same despite not seeing her for days. She acted as if the incident never happened and she said hi. The hi was followed by a conversation about the past days. The conversation was followed by sadness and regret. The sadness and regret was followed by apologies. And, the apologies was followed by a goodbye and a smile.

After that moment, everything was much better than before. I was happier than before. I was more inspired to go on than before. That moment was not the end, but it was the beginning of another life, a life without Jed, my best friend that will never be forgotten. My best friend that will forever be in our hearts but not in our minds. My best friend that had let go of me to let me grow even more.

I know this must be the end. I must forget about all of this. This must not exist, for my well-being. These writings must be left behind in the past and should only be remembered by the next generation or maybe the next. I don't know.

All I know is that I would say "To the person who finds this in a dusty chest in their attic or from someone or from somewhere. I give you this present that contains the story of my life between the thirty-first of July and the first day of September in the year nineteen-ninety-nine."

~End of Log

♦SPRING HAS NO END ♦