Pan Is Falling

Chapter One

How to emotionally destroy yourself and alienate your friends and family members while still maintaining the idea that you're completely innocent.

Better known as Pan Is Falling.

I should really make this is into a step by step guide. Really. I've made destroying your life an artform. Others could learn from me. Expand on my ideas.

It would read something like, step one: convince yourself that your long term boyfriend is cheating on you. Base this belief on zero facts. Go white girl crazy and quit your job so you can go home to confront him.
Go home. Find out that your long term boyfriend really is cheating on you. Do not cry about it and call your boss and try to get your job back. No no no. Now is the time to continue down the path of shame spiral and scream at him in the parking lot of your very nice apartment complex. You know, the one with the gossipy neighbors who jump at any sign of life.

You will undoubtedly be (unsuccessfully) setting his smashed gaming console on fire when the police arrive. Bonus points if your mascara is running from sweat or tears. It doesn't matter. Just has to be really good and smeared.

Call your mother, sobbing, of course, from the police station. Leave out the part about the fire.

Move home to live in your parents' basement.

Pretend that you don't hate your hometown and everyone in it.

When you run into your ex best friend at your local big box shopping center, make sure you're as sarcastic as possible and don't let it show that you forgot to brush your teeth that morning and you haven't showered in a decent amount of days.

Do not feel a sucker punch to the gut when you see that one boy you fell in love with that one time.

Don't let him approach you with your unwashed hair and your gross teeth.

Don't trip over the water bottle display trying to get out the door.

Don't let him help you up.

And don't give him your phone number.

Chapter One

I'm breathing right now.
In and out.

In and out.
In.

I plunge my head backwards into the warm bath water.
I hold there. Feel the forced pause in the expansion. I wait. My chest gets tight. I close my eyes. I hold still. It's in my throat now. The itch for air. The painful need for lifesaving oxygen. I hold.
I move my head slowly back and forth, feeling the swish of weightless hair against my skin, my face almost shivering.
My lungs are screaming now. Silent screams. But I hold.
I hold.
And then my fingers are grasping the edges of the tub and pulling me out as though it wasn't my own doing that kept me below the surface.

I gasp. I sputter. I shake. Waves lick my body wildly as I draw my knees to my chest. I'm still now. Oh so still.
I'm breathing right now.
In and out.
In and out.
In.
I never loved a man the way I loved you. And you still can't see me.
Why can't you see me?
Everyone else can.

Why don't you love me?

Why don't you want me?

Out.