Jefferson Lake (one shot contest)

McKenna Scott

McKenna Scott

I've been on more than a couple rollercoasters in my life.  I absolutely love them.  Ask my mom, my dad--anyone, really--and they'll tell you.  It's like rollercoasters were engineered to parallel all the possible emotions that the human body can register.  Felling your heart squeeze in fear as you wait in line, your body aching with anticipation as you steadily climb up the first big hill, the amazement at seeing the world shrink below you, the doubt that clouds your thoughts as you brink the peak of the hill--all of which is forgotten as you feel the thrill of plummeting down the slope.  It's one big, crazy, mind-blowing adventure that you can go on again and again.  It's all tied up in one big feeling that I can never quite shake.

They don't call it 'the rollercoaster sensation' for nothing.

I've always been mystified by that feeling and for a very, very large portion of my life I thought nothing could possibly compare to it. 

And then I met Lee Adams.

Having laid eyes on Lee once, I knew that he was bound to be something.  The affect that he had on people was surreal, it left them dazed and in wonder.  He was just so...him.  It was like the entire school liked him for being him, and that's pretty impressive in and of itself.  When trying to describe him, I found myself at a loss for words.  He was nice, but not all of the time.  Funny, but in a strange way.  Sweet, but also bitter.  I could simply never classify him, and that honestly frustrated me.  It was like a weird game of 'pin the tail on the rampaging bull.' Impossible.

So then, me being me, I felt compelled to get to know him.  I ate up every new piece of information with greed, intrigued by this person that I was slowly piecing together.  Oh, it's almost funny to look back at how proud I was, thinking I'd figured everything out.  Little did I know that I was completely and utterly clueless. 

My first day in group therapy, I found out that Lee had bipolar disorder.  But it didn't really stick with me because, well, to me, a label is a label.

Clueless.

But, that day, Lee found out that I had seen my sister die.  Needless to say, that's not an easy subject and it's certainly not the type of thing you spring upon a person in the first two days of knowing them.  But somehow, things were different with Lee.  He treated it--and me--with respect, never pushing me to talk yet never overlooking the fact that I had gone through some tough times.  It meant a lot to me that he cared just the right amount, and that sticks with me to this day.

Then came the day when I saw his notebook, proceeding that being the day I learned about his scars.  And the attempt.

That...that was a nasty shock.

I should have probably guessed.  I mean, no one wears that many bracelets and insists that they don't have a meaning.  But seeing them just reminded me of my sister, and that certainly didn't feel good.  My sister's death had really taken its toll on me.  I remember thinking how I never would have guessed that she had been feeling the way that she had, and now, looking at Lee, it was like the exact same scenario.  That was the worst part.

The rational part of my brain told me to run.  It told me that I'd been through a lot, that Lee had some really great friends and a great older brother to take care of him.  That my mental wellbeing was just as important as his and that if that meant taking a step back, so be it. 

But I couldn't.

When I learned about his mental illnesses, it surprised me how differently I saw him.  And it wasn't in a bad way.  When you learn that about someone, it's like someone just cleaned a very dirty window for you and now all of the colors and light are streaming through.