The Crazies

1

My body ferociously shook as I thought about the day ahead of me. Pain consumed my body to the point that tears couldn't even flow anymore. This was no new occurrence, though. My life had became so unbearable that leaving my home for school terrified me. No, I was not bullied. My peers did not push me or spit harsh words at my presence. My life was actually viewed as "perfect" by society; perfect parents, ideal grades, popular friends, strong reputation, gorgeous figure and facial features. Outsiders thought I had it perfect, how could Hannah Martin have any worries at all? If only there was a definite answer to that question.

As a child the littlest things excited me, from new socks to my father returning home from work at the end of the day, it was all exhilarating. Life never got boring and it was difficult to erase the glowing smile off my face. I was truly happy, living excited me to no end. Although, at some point that all changed. My life evolved into a repetitive cycle, breathing even wearing me out at times. My grandmothers heavenly ding dong cake no longer ignited the joyous dance party of my taste buds, my best friends and I's witty inside jokes no longer caused me to willingly giggle like a school girl, and butterflies didn't soar when the cute boy in math class looked at me. My emotions seemingly packed up and took a permanent vacation, their destination unknown.

Sadly this had become my every day life. I'd wake up and dread having to leave my bed and face the real world, usually spending ten minutes crying, finding it hard to breathe and wanting to end my pain of having to. Then I would force myself to act as if everything was alright, painting make up, which includes a smile, on my face to hide my real emotions.

Nothing could make me happy and I had no idea why.

School was when the numbness consumed me  the most. Sure, the class rooms would be full of ten or more students, several attempting to hold a conversation with me, but yet I'd never felt so alone. Words would flow easily out of their mouths, as my attention was forced. It wasn't because I lacked interest, I just simply had no energy to speak.

  One day, my best friend Carlie picked up on my distance and confronted me about it. I attempted to deny my strange behavior although she saw straight through it and threw out the ten letter long D word. Once that word left her mouth realization crashed into my world like a car going the wrong way on a freeway. I was in fact depressed, and I could not help it.

  That night I spent countless hours on the internet searching ways to cure depression. None of the soul cleansing techniques opened my eyes though, my life seemingly doomed to a bleak slate of permanent sadness. The thought of never experiencing happiness again triggered an emotion in me, finally the numbness had seized. Although, the emoticon it triggered was sadness which led to me drowning in a foot of my own tears and cries, my body drowning in my own sorrow. As a somewhat normal human I yearned to end the pain which had consumed my body. Clearly, breathing and being aware of my condition with an unknown cure was not helping. Therefore, the only way to escape the room filled with my suffering was to end breathing and being aware.

  That night I made the biggest decision of life. Shakily, I displayed my love and gratefulness to my family on a light blue paper, and also confessed the story of my sad, depressed, life. Then, with a sudden excitement I made my way to the bathroom and popped open the small orange container which held the key to my escape. Easily I swallowed my final supper whole, like Jesus did, accepting my fate with pride and honor. The bathtub acted as my cross as I laid down in it with a smile and proclaimed it as my death bed. A sudden calmness consumed my body as I rested, awaiting my train to safe place. Finally, I was content with the current situation in my life, my body welcoming total blackness like when I was a young child grabbing an ice cream cone, happily.