Sunshine and Dynamite | Wattys 2017

#02

I return to an empty home. I take out the trash. I wash the dishes and dry them. I put the dried clothes into the hamper so I can deal with it another time.

After showering and changing into an oversized shirt, I nestle into my pillow, wondering how things used to be so bright and happy in these same, peeling wallpapers.

I see my mom, lying on the hospital bed, her hand clutching mine.

"Your name is Sun Wei, after your grandparents. Your granny was called Sun Ying, and your grandpa was called Wei Sheng. Your English name is Sunny because you are our sunshine. You are my sunshine. Keep shining. Never let that light go out."

"A sun burns for millions of years, mom," I say with tears streaming down my eyes. I'm trying so hard to stay strong but I can feel myself breaking at the sight of my mother on her death bed. "Couldn't if I tried."

"Smarty pants," She laughs as her eyes close. "You take that after your dad..."

She falls asleep, and I realize it's the last lie I'll ever tell her, because I feel all burned out. My mother might think that I'm her sunlight, but she was mine. She was starlight in my eyes.

And so, when she died, I stopped shining.

I shake my head at the vivid memory. I try to focus on happy memories, but sometimes, on some days like these, the bad stuff catches up, and they just play repeatedly, on a loop, in my head.

I think that's why I have depression. But, I don't really like thinking or talking about my depression.

I'm not an invalid. I'm not really depressed. I'm fine on most days. I can get up and do everything like a normal person. I'm just diagnosed with sadness sometimes. Everyone does.

I close my eyes wanting to go to sleep. Sometimes I want to sleep like my mom did and never wake up again.

I think that's why I have depression.

I don't like thinking about it.

But maybe that's why I have depression.

Don't. Think. About it.

Sleep... sleep...

I don't sleep a wink for the whole night.

I wake up groggily and stumble to the bathroom. I wash my face and brush my teeth and reach into the medicine cabinet for my pills only to realize—

The bottle's empty.

I shake it for good measure, and then close and reopen the cabinet for a few more times just to make sure.

It's still empty.

I groan loudly, banging my head against the cabinet, which makes me groan again. I sigh. Dang it.

It's Sunday, which means it's dad's off day, which really just means I don't see him for yet another day. But I put on the coffee for him, and set the newspaper on the kitchen table. I open the fridge, looking for something to eat, but realize that we're running out of grocery. Well.

I reach for my wallet. I've gone over my credit card limit, and I'm running low on cash. Damn it, damn it, damn it. I hesitate. I'll have to ask dad for money. I don't really want to do that, so instead, I go back upstairs and take out some of my college fund money I've been saving up.

I'll ask him for it another day.

That's what I said last month....

I get the bus to the pharmacy. The bus ride takes about an hour, since I live far from the city area. It gets inconvenient sometimes, but I love living in the reclusive area.