Cyclothymia

Chapter I

April 1, 2011

Where should I sit? I scanned around the lunchroom. I'd often pondered where I wanted to sit then, since I didn't have much company those days. I was now in Georgia. Three months after the tragedy, my 4 brothers, Lisa, and I had left Manhattan. I didn't agree with it, but I was five at the time- so my opinion had little gravity.

"Goddammit, Taylor!" I'd told myself out loud, "You've got 7 days to get a decent group of friends to invite to your birthday party!" I scoffed at my own thoughts, like anybody would want to hang out with a weirdo like me. I gave up and settled for the table next to the lunch line, nobody liked that table. It hadn't been cleaned in ages and old, hard gum rested underneath. I swallowed hard, feeling as if the whole lunchroom was feasting its eyes on me and my awkward nature. I began to unwrap my sandwich from the cheap foil that it'd been placed in. Memories of that unfortunate Memorial Day flooded back. "Make sure you stay with your brothers at all times, and don't leave their sight," my mother had cautioned me. If only I had listened.

"Oh mom, I miss you so much." I'd begun to question why she had to be there, at that exact moment- 9/11. "You could've stayed at home like you had planned, and maybe you would still be here right now. Somehow, it's my fault. I know it is." I pulled up my long, orange sleeve to reveal a pale arm covered in scars and sores. I had been self-harming since I was 5. It had started out innocently, like it usually does. If I'd done something wrong or remembered that painful day, I'd pinch myself to deal with the pain. "Don't do that, Taylor Bear," my mother would caution me, "Come talk to me." And I would. But after she had died, it progressed. Pinching became harder, and then I started bruising myself. Eventually, I began cutting after I had read it in a teenage magazine I'd stolen from my now sister-in-law, Lisa's room. My young mind was very impressionable at the time, and I was desperate for relief.

"TAYLOR!" My head shot up from the depressing view of my sun-deprived arms. I pulled down my sleeve without hesitation, promising myself that I would tan later. It was my friend, Michael. I let my guard down. I made a mental note invite him to my birthday party. "Jesus, Mike! What do you want?!" I realized how mean I'd sounded and covered my mouth in shock. "Don't worry 'bout it Tay. I understand. I just wanted you to know I got you something you might like." He smirked, "Now close your eyes and open up your hands." I let out a soft giggle and closed my eyes, although they were already hidden behind my long, brown, scrappy bangs. "Alright, are they closed?" I could hear Michael moving to test if my eyes were closed. I smiled even harder. "Here." He placed something square, flat, and plastic into my hands. "Open!" My eyes snapped open. "SELFISH MACHINES?!" Michael nodded his head at a neck-breaking speed. He knew how much I'd loved Pierce The Veil, they were the best post-hardcore band I'd ever heard. "AAH MICHAEL I LOVE YOU!" I gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Haha, thanks. I know." He put his hands together- imitating an angel- and looked up at the cafeteria's battered ceiling. "Well anyways, I gotta scoot now. Seeya later Tay." He gave me a quick, tight hug and then left the cafeteria.

"Well, April Fools Taylor. You didn't spend lunch alone today!" I insulted myself and dumped my tray into the trash can.