Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Standing at the edge of a cliff

There was a boy with blond hair and blue eyes. Dreamy... well as dreamy as one 4 year old is to another. He had one of those fashionable rat ponytails that was so popular in the early 90's. He lived behind my house and he became one of my very first friends. When I made the transfer from catholic to public school he took me under his wing and introduced me to people. He was well liked, athletic and extremely funny. Everyone loved Matt. Including me. I always knew he was out of my league though and I accepted my place as friend. When it was time to transfer to middle school Matt moved away. He always asked about me, and I asked about him. Finally I found him on facebook but like most facebook friends he laid forgotten amount the other two hundred and something people I'm not even sure I really knew. When I switched my accounts last year after the whole Derek (coughshitheadcough) crap I just didn't happen to add him again. I was going through far too much shit. Apparently he was too... He killed himself. I'm not sure how, I'm not sure why but for the first time in my existence I can hear about this suicide and understand. Just understand. Before I thought, "How could someone be so selfish? Leave everything behind for something that doesn't even matter!" In November I stood at that same cliff. I looked down and was at peace with the idea of all of it ending. People may feel like I was being selfish but really they were the ones being selfish. I was in too much pain. They needed to understand. I haven't really thought about the day since a little after it happened. Since I heard the news I find it hard to stop thinking about it. It's like the universe wants me to revisit that pain...
My mother asked me just before to check in her drawer for one of her credit cards and there I found instead, like a secret she was trying to stash, all of my discharge paperwork from 11/06/10. Diagnosis? Drug toxicity/ overdose and Depression. Along with that? My prom picture with Derek. Do I miss him? No. But I looked at the picture after months of not seeing his face and remembered how beautiful I thought he was. How much I fucking loved him. Its funny that my mother had put them together. As if she knew I would one day find it and she's saying, "He is who lead you down this road." I look at myself in the picture, still very young and looked so doe eyed. I look like I'm thinking, "He's so much more attractive than me, how can he stand being next to me?" I lingered on his face. Air brushed and pale... In my memories he's so hideous, every imperfection exaggerated. But this picture of 19 year old Derek looks so different than the man he became in my memory. Ha, then I remembered my actual prom where he at first refused to go and then finally caved as a little surprise only to cross his arms and barely say anything during my prom. He wouldn't dance with me. I barely remember leaving the table. I don't have pictures with my friends because although I was angry at him for being a party pooper I stilled loved being in his presence. What a stupid little bitch I was. I look at that girl and say, can you believe you stayed for so long? He treated you like absolute garbage but you ate all that shit up because you thought he was some god sent to rescue you from all the sucky shit in your life. He became my God. When you're savior forsakes you what else can you do but to end your worthless life.
I remember sitting on his bathroom floor after he wrestled me down to there (I think I had a knife?)... He gave me a Xanax and suddenly I was able to think unclouded by my agony although it was still there. I was going to drink all of my pain medicine with a bottle of vodka. I told him to get me both and he did because I'm sure part of him loved having the control of my life in his hands and the other part was curious if I would actually do it... I left his house ("If you're going to kill yourself don't do it in my house") and drove. I parked somewhere no one was around. I sat for a moment, closed my eyes and allowed myself to feel not just the pain of that day but all the pain I had ever felt. This is the right thing to do. You'll feel much better and no one else will ever be able to harm you... I thought. After it was done I went back to his house... because although he had forsaken me I wanted to die in his arms. Dramatic? Completely, but this was the ending of my life. I should be allowed to go out with a bang. My one mistake was saying goodbye to my best friend. I needed her to be strong and tell my family I loved them. Because that's something everyone needed to know. That I loved them but I couldn't do this anymore. Derek read the message and started freaking out. He left his house and went for a walk when I remember he had a stash of prescription meds he may or may not have stolen from his last place of employment. Among them? Ambien and Xanax. I took as many as I could and laid back down hoping the end would come sooner now. Caitlin called her mother who called my mother. She came to get me. To steal me away from my savior. I hated her for it but looking back now I see how much pain was in her eyes and how scared she was. How viciously she looked at Derek like a lioness seeping venom at him with every glare. "She's weak like you" or something like that I remember him saying to her. To my mother who was actually trying to save my life not being a little bitch ass coward like he was. My mother was far from weak in that moment. She took me home and tried to get me to vomit and she consulted with my brother. After that my memory ends. "I want my phone, Derek may have tried to call!" I said over and over again. It was the first thing I said to my father when I regained consciousness 18 hours later. Tear streaked face... My old man looked so weak, so utterly vulnerable and all I wanted was to know if Derek had called... He hadn't. Many months later I found out he had fucked the 16 year old the night I nearly died... Figures.
My life now? Nothing compared to that day. I am so happy now... but after hearing about Matt's suicide... For some reason I find myself questioning everything. Am I really happier? Is it really a good thing that I survived?... I don't know the answer to that but I do know that I wish I would have shared my story with him. About both my downfall and the success I have had rising from the ashes. But I can't blame him... the saddest part is that I know he died with at least a little bit of peace... more than he had probably felt in a long time. For that I am happy for him. But never again will I be so weak... If there isn't a god... well then I should be my own god and worship myself and be my own savior. That's what I have learned this year. I do feel rather sad though... and I also dislike reliving this time in my life... But I will never, ever...EVER be so pathetic again. The thing I love most about Anthony? "I want to enhance your life, not dictate it. Live your life... and let me be a part of it. not all of it." I hope I marry him... If not I promise he will always be part of my life, because I love him far too much.
I stood at the edge of that cliff and even jumped. Somehow I survived and although I have thousands of dollars in medical bills I'm glad I'm still here...

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