My Angel
Chapter 5
By: Bella
A few weeks passed but not much had changed. It was still summer, I still spent most of my days sleeping, I still cut myself on a regular basis. Growing tired of focussing on just my stomach, I decided to venture out and cut my wrists a couple times. I now wore bracelets all of the time. Joel had left again long ago, and wouldn't come around again for a couple more weeks. Not that it really mattered anyway.
Really the only change was that I had called him on the phone the week before and broken up with him. I tried to do it as easily as possible, but of course it wasn't easy. I loved him with all of my heart, and I wished I didn't have to. If I were different, I wouldn't have to. But I was me, unfortunately, and I would only bring him down. I wasn't good enough for him. Everyone knew that except for him, and so I was actually doing him a favor.
I had other things on my mind. I had to get my affairs in order, in case I suddenly decided to make a drastic and permanent change, or shall I say end, to my life. I didn't feel sad or scared. I didn't feel anything. I couldn't even remember the last time I cried. I decided to take it slow. I started by cleaning my room spotlessly, tearing out diary pages with information that I didn't want people knowing, throwing away any socks with holes in them or cds that I didn't want to admit owning. I kept my finger and toe nails neatly painted, constantly touching them up when it was needed. I hadn't bothered to register for classes the following semester. I made sure I told my family that I loved them every night before bed. I thought that since I never knew when it was going to end, I might as well be prepared at all times.
What's funny is that every single day there are a million ways in which your life can come to an end to no fault of your own. We're all constantly putting ourselves at risk, but until you wish for death to come your way you don't really think about how close it really can be. Every night I went to bed hoping that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. Every time I drove in the car I hoped someone would slam into me or a big tree would just appear in the middle of the road for me to crash in to. But I was never so lucky. I would be forced to do it on my own time.
I didn't have a specific day planned. Just whenever I felt it was my time to go. It was something I looked forward to, but couldn't predict the precise time. It was like looking forward to the ice cream man coming by your house. You never know when you're going to hear that annoying music travelling down your street. You try to time it. You keep your money by the door so that you can rush out as soon as you hear it. But you never really know which days it'll decide to come around and which days it won't.
For the first time in years I felt free. I could effortlessly pretend that I was happy around others. I still felt exhausted with life inside, but somehow it was much easier to paint a different picture on the outside when an end to it all was in sight. Much easier than it had been at times in the past. I had written a letter to my family long ago, and it sat in my desk waiting to be displayed. It wasn't long and probably didn't make much sense… just like my life. What I didn't know, however, was that I wouldn't be the one to take it out and display it.
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Dear Mom, Dad, Kyle, and Jonathan,
I love you. I want you to know that I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused you. If you're reading this, I've done something that I've been thinking about for a long time. Since before I even knew what my thoughts were. I have the best family in the world, and that's why it's a shame for me to leave you. I don't want to leave you, but I don't want to live either. I don't understand it. You have given me unconditional love that many people aren't lucky enough to have, and here I am throwing it away. I don't understand myself, I don't understand my feelings, I don't understand me anymore. I've become the kind of person that I hate most and I'm so sorry that I've hurt your feelings. I love you so much and I think that in the end you'll be better off without me anyway. I can only bring you down.
I'll never forget you.
Mari
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I'll never forget the look on my dad's face when I walked into my bedroom and saw him standing in the middle, frozen, with tear stained eyes. I'd never seen him cry before in my life. Apparently my little brother John had decided to help himself to some paper from my room and had drawn a picture of our cat, Peaches, on the back.
Later that evening, I remember my mom coming in to my room and sitting on the edge of my bed. I was already in bed trying to go to sleep and be rid of the day. "You need help," she said with a fresh batch of tears running down her cheeks. I didn't want help. I just wanted to not need help. I didn't want anything anymore.
But, there I was less than a week later in the "hospital." I like to call it the nut house. There were bars on the windows. Nurses watching your every move. And my least favorite of all, group therapy. I refused to participate, which only made some of the others angry at me for thinking I was a snob. I didn't care though. At that point, I figured they were right.
I don't remember how long I was there, nor do I remember much about the day I got out. It felt like forever, and I didn't know how it was supposed to help me and get me back into the real world. All I knew was that I was as miserable as ever. I now had nothing to look forward to. My family knew I was nuts. I couldn't cut. I couldn't end it. I couldn't do anything except face what I felt inside. All I felt inside was pain and guilt. Pain because I couldn't stand myself, and guilt because I couldn't understand why I felt such pain.
The first day I was home I pretty much spent all day either sleeping or crying when I could. I knew I was killing my parents, and now I didn't care. They had sent me away from them, and now I felt as bad as ever. I wished I had gone through with my plan when I had the chance. Now I had lost my nerve. I felt I was doomed to feel nothing but misery from there on out. Little did I know, however, that my life was about to turn around less than 48 hours after I had gotten back home.
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I sat at the kitchen table the next morning reading the newspaper, or at least attempting to. I didn't feel like reading anything depressing, which was basically everything in the news. Nothing is interesting unless it's sad, right? Or is it that nothing good ever happens in this world so there's only the bad to report? Whatever the case, not long after I began I heard the chair across from me pull out and someone sit down. I sensed eyes on me and looked up annoyed. And then I felt like my whole body collapsed at once. I couldn't speak. I just immediately started sobbing the moment I laid eyes on him. I don't know why, but I broke down. I looked down at the table not wanting to make eye contact with him, but he proped my chin up with his hand and looked me in the eyes. I felt uncomfortable. I felt ashamed. We just sat there, neither one of us speaking, and just looking at each other.
Without a word, he got up, grabbed my hand, and led me out of the front door. It was sunny outside and I was still in my pajamas and slippers, but it didn't matter. I didn't have the energy to get dressed. I didn't even have the energy to care. We walked side by side holding hands, both of us with our eyes cast on the ground in front of us. I didn't ask where we were going, I just kept walking with him until we ended up at a nearby park. We both got on the swings, but just sat there not really swinging. I finally spoke.
"I'm sorry," I said, removing my slippers and burying my feet in the hot sand beneath us. I knew he knew everything. I was sure my parents had told him already.
"No, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."
I felt awful. "I'm the one that pushed you away! You couldn't be there for me because I wouldn't have let you. I love you, and I don't know why that isn't enough for me."
"Whatever you're feeling, you can tell me!"
"I know, but I just can't bring myself to tell anyone. I don't know why I'm like this, Joel. I don't like being like this. I don't like feeling this way. I want to be happy, but I can't do it. It's selfish of me."
"It's not your fault," he said, wrapping me in a hug. I had missed feeling his arms around me.