A World Alone

Chapter 1

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"When life gives you lemons... well, all you can do is eat them."

When I was young, I remember feeling a certain way. I don't know if it was because I was naive or just because I was a kid. But I remember having so many hopes and dreams. I felt like I was unstoppable in a sort of way, I remember grownups asking me what I wanted to do with my life. I always answered with singing, pop-star, or actor. There were so many things out there for me, and it had seemed like I wanted to grab onto each of them at once. They don't slap you with the reality of the situation though, as you get older shit gets harder. For many people like me, the hard part is just living our life. It was like yesterday I was four years old thinking it only got better from here. It was all a lie that my four year old self believed in, it just ended up always getting worse. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to being oblivious, to being that little girl who only had to worry about her stuff animals and tea parties. It was the only time I was ever genuinely happy in my whole lifetime. But after the age of four is really when my memories began to fade.

I am sure it's my brain trying to protect itself from the traumatic memories that had happened to me during my adolescence. Sometimes I remember small things like my mom asking to "borrow" my birthday money for red wine but never giving it back. Or dropping out of cheerleading because my mom was never sober enough to take me or even come to my events. It's considerably hard to think of a good or happy memory that involved my mom. When I try to think too hard about it, my mind becomes sort of blank and I can't handle it. I know most of my memories have impacted me, it's a clear view that resulted into where I am today. Somehow, I know that part of me, that little girl inside me will never get to experience the childhood that she should've. Part of me grieves for the little girl inside me. Sometimes I think about it too long that my head blows up and anger fills me most than grief. Because now here I am, laying in the hospital bed attached to a heart monitor and fluid bag after a suicide attempt.

I know I am suffering from the pain I endured for years. I know I am depressed. I know that I can't handle big things. Now I grieve for the bigger part of my life, that I am still living.

"Can I come in?" someone knocks on my door. Before I can even answer yes or no they swing the door open wide. "Were you able to meet your Grandparents?" my doctor asked. She had big black glasses on with circular lenses. Her hair, which was strawberry blonde, was pinned up in a a thick bun. Her skin was slightly tanned, but not too much to where she looked like an orange. It was a natural tone which had fit her reasonably. Her eyes were brown with mascara covering her eyelashes that made them look more thick than they really were. She was dressed up in blue scrubs with a name tag on the right of her chest. Her name was spelled "Anya" and pronounced without the "A". There was another person behind her who seemed to be a nurse because she was wearing pink scrubs instead of blue. She had black hair curly hair which was put up in a bun as well with some strands falling out, she had brown eyes as well and makeup adorned her face. Her skin was beautifully dark toned and had golden hues. She smiled genuinely at me as she hovered by the bag with fluids inside of it attached to me. I looked back at my doctor, who was still staring at me.

"Yes," I said then looked back up to my TV.

My doctor nodded her head in delight before saying, "Good! I talked with social services and it seems like having a different environment might be best for you. I know you're 19 so we can't really force you to go with them but if you don't we also have an alternative." she finished.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Well, since this was a very big deal, I will have to involuntarily pink slip you." she said looking to the side as if she was purposely avoiding eye contact. I reached up and put a piece of my light brown hair behind my ear before looking back at her.

"What is a pink slip?" I asked confused.

She looked back at me, "You will be forced to go to a behavioral hospital for 72 hours where a psychiatrist and nurses will be. The nurses will watch you as precaution so they make sure nothing happens to you. You will also go to groups and talk about emotions, coping skills, and such. It's not entirely a bad place!" she said as if she was trying hard to believe it herself. The nurse who was now changing my bag fluid was side eyeing me as if she knew herself that the place probably didn't hold up to those standards.

"I don't want to go there." I replied quickly. "I don't even know my grandparents either. I never met them. Why can't you just let me go without any alternative?" I asked.

The doctors eyes changed and it seemed like she was trying to sympathize with my situation. "I know this is going to be really hard Klara. But if you really don't want to go with your grandparents then I also think this program could help you. You need some type of therapy and education on your coping skills. Now if you did decide to go with your grandparents I referred to them a good group therapy at where they live so you would still have a bit of your own freedom." she explained. I understood she had good intentions but all the thoughts that kept running through my head is why? why does this have to happen to me. I just wished I would've disappeared so I didn't have to do either. I probably do need help, but I don't want it. Somehow the suffering has become so addicting and I can't even imagine my life changing. I know it always gets worse. "A good thing is though." she began, "Your grandparents don't live here. They came all this way from Canada. You would get a new foundation there, Klara."

My eyes started tearing up, but I so badly didn't want to show it. I don't like the feeling of others watching me cry. It also makes me feel weak to show them that vulnerability. "I just don't know" I whispered as a tear fell from my eye without my permission. I looked down to try to hide it. Anya, my doctor, walked closer to me and even sat at the side of my bed. She put her hand on my leg and sighed.

"I usually don't tell patients this because I don't want to form a connection with them knowing they could die or that I'll never see them again. But, it sounds like you should hear it." she smiled at me, "I had a younger brother, his name was Tyler and my parents adored him. He could seriously make anyone laugh at any second." she gleamed. "but.. during my second semester of med school he passed away from a car wreck. My parents were crushed, and the stress that laid in my hands seemed to become bigger."

"I know that I can never feel what you feel or what you have suffered from. But I know for a fact that my parents were lost for quite a bit. And so was I." she said. I looked at her, feeling sadness for her. "But I got passed it. My parents got passed it. It was a long journey and every day hurt like hell. At this day and time though I can say that yes I still miss him but I've accepted the change that came after and I think you can too. It's going to be incredibly hard. But you failed your attempt for a reason, you are still here for a reason. I am not religious or anything but I strongly believe in second chances. And you just got one." she finished. But what if I can't? What if I can never get passed this lifelong pain and depression?

"I don't even know how to start." I finally looked up, tears had already pooled around my eyes and my nose became stuffy.

"Start with your grandparents, or even this behavioral health program. Either way I am sure your grandparents will welcome you with their arms. I saw them yesterday and they seemed to worry about you." she said. I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose.

"They don't even know me, though. How can they worry about someone they don't know?" I asked.

"Because they know you now, and that's all that matters" she answered. "Now I can't really keep you in here longer than you have been, sadly. But I am able to give you the day to think your options over and prepare for the future." she said before standing up, "If you choose your grandparents someone will call them right away so we can discharge you. If you choose the program we will transport you to the facility right away. I hope you get better Klara, I really do." she said then smiled. She did seem she cared, but I felt too sad and confused to thank her. It also felt really awkward too. She turned around and headed for the door. But I knew what I needed to do. I knew what was right for me at this point in time. It was the only way I could really get away from all the bad things. The only way for me to be free.

"I think I made my choice." I said before she could even reach the door. She halted to a stop and turned back toward me with a smile.

"What is your choice?" she asked.