Grasping at Memories

Grasping at Memories

'It's because you're retarded.'

'It's your own doing.'

'You make yourself this way.'

'Stop being selfish.'

'It's because you're retarded.'

'Just get over it.'

'Stop being emo.'

'What's up with your emo-ness?'

'As if you're depressed.'

'It's all in your head.'

'It's because you're retarded.'

'How are you going to live your life like this?'

The feelings were creeping up on me. They crawled into the deepest, darkest depths of my mind and clung on for dear life. They stretched their limps and slowly spread them across my whole body; in and around my veins, loosening my muscles, clouding my thoughts, taking control, draining the remaining life and leaving a living corpse in my place. There was no escaping the damaged mind. I knew exactly what was coming next and I wasted no energy in an attempt to resist it.

I pushed my limp body off the couch. It was like moving a dead person into position and manoeuvring them to look and act like they're alive. My eyes were blank as I stared off into nothingness. The emptiness of the house was unnerving. My thoughts were my only pesky companions; prodding, bullying and pressuring me. But at least I could do it alone...in peace. No interruptions. It was just me, the house, my brain and my soul. There was no one to stop the thread of unspeakable thoughts that polluted my mind. The ugly memories were fresh in my mind, every word I've wanted to forget stinging me sharply in sensitive places.

I dragged my right foot forward. The effort made me want to cry out in frustration. It scraped across the floor and I focused on the sssshhhhhh sound that accompanied the labour intensive movement. My left foot followed. Sssshhhhh. My slow shuffling led me to my first destination. I lifted my hand up -reminding me of a puppeteer pulling the strings to bring a puppet's hand up- and pulled the drawer open roughly. Its contents clinked together loudly and I cringed at the sounds that bounced off the walls of the house. They seemed to disturb the stillness of the air surrounding me. I dropped my hand into the drawer and it wrapped around the hilt of the utensil. I pulled the knife out with disregard, and with it hanging at my side I resigned to making my way towards the flight of stairs leading to my safe haven.

I stopped at the base of the stairs and looked up and into the darkness at their end. The blackness was waiting for me, waiting to envelope me in its emptiness...But first I needed to journey towards it. Irritation soared through me as I took in the amount of stairs I had to struggle through and my eyes began to sting. They were no more than sixteen but at that moment they felt like a hundred. I urged myself to take the first step and then the second step and the third before I slumped to the side against the wall. I dragged my nails across my face in a fit of anger, it was enough to keep me going. There was more stinging at the back of my eyes and I allowed the first tear to escape.

'It's because you're retarded.' 'I know.'

It was all too much. I was too weak; too weak to climb a couple of steps to the second floor, too weak to live, too weak to fight it all. I had convinced myself that I had become numb to it all after the years of experience but I was awfully wrong and it was starting to show. My façade was slowly falling apart.

'It will all be over soon' I reassured myself, glancing up in the direction of my final destination. I would be free... just a few more steps.

I was so desperate that I practically crawled the rest of the way up on all fours. I reached the top and grabbed the railing, hauling myself up and back on my feet. My own weight threatened to topple me over. I hunched my shoulders and shuffled in the slowest pace possible towards the open door. It was almost inviting me in, calling for me to enter and be done with this wicked world. The thought sent shivers through my body but I continued on forwards. Upon entering the room the first thing that caught my eye was the mobile phone, sitting there on my bedside table, untouched for a week. No calls, no messages, nothing. I let out a puff of laughter.