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Is it the truth or a dare?

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Feeling my mind connect to my physical body creates a large sense of relief.  What I just lived in my mind was just that, a dream.  The experience is over now and no longer exists in this world.  My subconscious will begins to bury the sharp vivid images and I will be able to carry on with my everyday life.  When a nightmare happens in real life, your subconscious chooses what to bury deep below a conscious level.  Only certain aspects are pushed aside for a while but most of the memory cannot be forgotten as easily as it could a dream.

Sitting there with the pill bottle, my mind raced, “What am I doing,” I thought. Unfortunately, my feelings and emotions had been bottled down for years now.  These bottled up emotions were going to disappear with this bottle in my hand.  As I feel this enormous chunk of pills flow down my throat, I notice my gag reflex kick in.  “Gagging will not do the trick,” I told myself, “they are just pills.”  As I looked at the empty bottle, my mind and willpower stopped and my morals kicked in.  As I raced to my cell phone and phoned a friend, I realized that the situation was taken for my own hands.

In the distance, I heard the loud banging and realized that the louder the knock the less I wanted to open it.  Eventually, those people will leave, my actions will fade away it will all be okay or rather all be normal again.  The countless minutes kept passing and after I realized they were not going away.  Not this time.  My hands reached for the cold doorknob and barely turned, I could hear my heart in my ears while my physical body was getting sicker each moment. 

The men’s loud voices began and the questions flew at me like sharp daggers.  I began to feel faint as my father shook me asking what I had done.  The police officer escorted him out of my sight, and I realized did not exist.  The moment I open those doors to the change was the moment I shut my eyes.  I did not open them once, I felt the safeness of the blackness behind my eye lids. 

My mind created the illusion that no one was around.  My ears merely played a game on me, if I cannot see it than I am not truly living it.  I pretended to hear all of these noises.  While my ears were available to hear incoming noise, my eyes stayed inactive with the process as well as my mouth.  Questions after questions were thrown while my mouth did not want to catch them or simply produce answers for them.  I was shivering, so my nerve endings were picking up on my signals my brain was sending them.  While some senses chose not to respond others did, which must mean I am alive.  My eyes and my mouth remained silent.  I never liked the dark but this dark was good darkness.  I was simply playing a show in my mind and once I open my eyes, it will all be gone.

That was when I realized I was mistaken, as I was slowly being picked up by what must have been strong men; I realized the imagination piece was false.  I know I am physically being picked up due to the fact that I am no longer in my house.  The security of my house, which my mother chose to leave, deserted while she left for Paris with her rich fiancé.  My mind was no longer down with the games I wanted to play; I knew I was going nowhere safe. 

As the sirens hit my eardrums hard, while my body felt the cold and unwelcoming stretcher beneath me. If I died, would I die on this stretcher my mind would question.  While I lay there with my eyes closed and wondering what these people must have thought of me was the moment, I did not need my eyes to witness this.  My eyes would do no good in this situation; strange men who knew little to nothing about me talked about me through an intercom. I was no longer able to hide in my shell, which took me so long to formulate over the years. 

My shell was my safe place, where no one knew my thoughts and my growing depression, which took over my grandmothers and my own uncle’s lives.  I would not let it get that far I would always say to myself.  What is the point in telling anyone that each and everyday I wonder why I can not stay in bed, not due to the laziness I possessed but because there was simply no point in my mind.  My tears that overflowed on my pillow each and every night, when my brother would come in and lie with me until they stopped.  If my older brother did not think it was a big deal than why should anyone else.  Little did I know, that my brother was just as confused as I was and was just as sad as me deep down.  We comforted each other in our times of need; he would make me tea each and every night hoping it would subdue my feelings for the evening.  Sometimes it worked but sometimes my brother picked up my wailing cries and he was signaled in like these officers were when they were called.  My wailing and tears were not going to be secrets anymore, now everyone knew what I have been hiding for so many years.  Now things my own parents did not know, these strange men knew.  They knew exactly what my parents wished to know all these years of hiding away.  These men could announce publically to a hospital “ a teenage girl age 16 attempted suicide.”

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