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Picture Credits: I drew it
.....It started some time that Wednesday afternoon, when I realized I was dead. I took two more pills and just stared at the ceiling, delicately blinking water and concentrating solely on the way the tears felt tickling my cheeks, as they rolled down my cheekbones and into my ears. I heard Daddy calling, but, I couldn’t answer. He walked in and felt my head. He knew if I just hung on, it wouldn’t be much longer. But I didn’t know that.
The dog sat next to me the whole time, except to eat, drink or go outside. It was almost as if he knew I was dead. I was screaming out loud – so loud it could have shattered the windows and every single glass in the house, but, all they could see were the tears gently flowing from my bleak, cold eyes as if they were blood dripping from a small cut through my heart connected to my face as if it was the only outlet. My lips were stark and split - almost blue in color. My body was trying to feed off of my adrenaline, not that a person as dead as I, had any left.
Eating was not an option – I could not get the food passed my lips before the mere thought of swallowing would disgust me to the point of dry heaving into the bucket next to my bed. Vomiting was an effort in itself. Getting up to purge was quite an effort, so, the pail did just fine, collecting bile for a week, which resulted from the crash itself. I didn’t shower – I didn’t have the strength to stand up for that long.
I was dead. Dad knocked every now and then to check my vitals. At times I could not blink. I could not talk. My aching lungs were full of smoke, choking fiercely on memories that once made me feel safe and secure. Now they had come back to destroy me because they were just that - memories now. It hurt so bad inside that I screamed louder and louder while my lips moved not one inch. I wished for another life, another day, as I choked hard, trying to cough it all up. I was scared to death as I gagged harder and harder and almost drowned in my own tears. I felt the stinging pain eat away at my stomach lining. I wished for the unconditional love I gave to him – for me. I couldn't imagine another day outside of that room. It was sickeningly peaceful.
As the days passed, I realized I wasn’t dead as much as I was alive – I could still feel horrible pain, so that meant I had to still be at least half alive. I got up, a smelly, sick, disgusting mess, and walked out of my room. There was life outside of that room and if I wanted it - I could at least try. I showered, I guess, and went on a job interview with bags under my eyes and with nothing in my system for days. I don’t know how I showered or got dressed. To this day, it isn't even a vague memory.....I must have blocked it out…after all, I was dead….
I cleaned up quite well for someone so frozen. I played pretty girl, wore a pretty suit, and thawed out just long enough to get the job. The woman loved me. She said I was pretty and I looked like her sister. I thought about what a disgusting, morbid, useless amoeba I was, so no matter what crown she awarded me, I didn’t deserve it. Then she gave me the money I wanted. Her face was pleasing to me. I hadn’t seen one in days and hers was perfect. Soft, young, and kind of like mine when I was alive. She had soft real black hair like mine and her cheek bones were just so cute when she smiled. I couldn’t care any less about any of it because I did what I did a thousand times before. I needed a job with benefits to survive and I got one. I came home and Daddy was happy I got a job because I’d have somewhere to go soon. I ate a cracker and right back into my room I went, with the dog. He waged his bushy tail and I petted him. I realized that I had my found physical strength for a short time that day, somehow, but emotionally, my life was all dead to the world. Undressing, my nerves were numb. The bags beneath my eyes were gray and swollen at this point. My poor heart was exhausted. I cried out loud now just until the energy to even do that ran out. So….back into bed I went and stared at the ceiling once again and the tears flowed. I was back in my pain and comfortable. They should have just buried me that week.......it would have done me more good than the job. I was dead anyway...
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