I Hate Phone Calls

Today... I met a friend.

Today. I met a friend. A friend I haven't seen in awhile...
No, not a friend. A sibling. Blood.

"The blood of the covenant runs thicker than the water of the womb.", As they say.

This family I formed by choice. And this person is a part of it... It's a small, isolated family. Just 3 other people... People I trust undoubtedly with my life. And I would hope in return that they put some trust in me.

Today, this friend showed up unexpectedly. A family member divided by distance but, never far. Never forgotten.

This family member of my own little covenant managed to stay despite it all... I__ was and is a fighter. I will always be proud of everything she has overcome and she will always be my sister no matter the distance or time that separates us, she is the fourth to a quartet that didn’t know it was missing a member until she stumbled upon it.

I__'s unexpected arrival reminds me bitter sweetly of those once here and now gone. Of a  friendship forged in misery and teenage angst. When we felt as if the world stood against us, in the shadow of our own self-loathing and clouded judgment- we established something.
Promises made... Yet not kept, because we were young and naive. Not understanding what it is a promise really stands for.  So many plans and hopes for the future.

So many plans we hope and pray come true but, realize inevitably they were foolish. Idealism in the face of the catastrophic combination of chemicals that made up the cocktail of calamities we encompassed was futile. We were light racing to illuminate a corner that was already filled with darkness.

And as hopeless as that sounds, the light will still penetrate the darkness but it is dependent on the journey that it takes to get there.

We only saw the corner for its darkness, not for the light that would makes its way there in time, after light does travel very, very fast.

And I remember, we tried to hide how we really felt around each other. The pent up emotions of anger, fear and sadness only worsened. I was the first to break. I take that blame.

Snapping at you as if it were nothing... Yet I could not find the courage to offer an apology in words... Only in writing. As if I was hiding behind the guise of ink and paper. It's because I was. If only I could've learned to speak as I do now, with more honesty and compassion.

I promised I'd always be there. Because I couldn’t understand that I was only a kid, and promising to always be there for someone is an impossible task. That promise meant nothing and I didn’t even know it until it was being tauntingly dangled in my face.

For three years I'd learned to trust and confide in someone. Three years, I spent making a best friend. Through puberty, mental illness, identity searching and high school. And it only took less than a five minute phone call to take all of that away.

I believed the words you spoke, and your mother spoke and your grandparents spoke. I would still believe them. You heard them and told me with hitched breathe and sobs in between over the phone early in the morning and I was just getting up to go to a birthday party in O_____.

No one was privy to what had happened. I immediately texted S___ frantically, sent her your address and told her that you might commit suicide.
Her brother Sc___ went with her. S___ texted me throughout the day keeping me updated. I know she went to your house that day and you told her she shouldn’t have come.

But… I didn’t know what else to do.
Now with the knowledge I have about the law, I could have had you Baker Acted but, that would have been cruel… perhaps necessary but, cruel.

That phone call still haunts me, it's been 5 years.
One would think that any Post Traumatic Stress over it would be in remiss but, I still actively see a psychologist. I told him how afraid of phones and trusting people I was and the vivid night terrors.
He diagnosed me with PTSD. All because of a phonecall.

It's ironic now... because I work at P_____ and my main job is to answer phones and take orders but every time I lift the phone off the cradle all I hear for a split second is the crystal clear sound of that phone call.

The one line that plays over and over and over any time I press a phone to my ear is, "this is the last time you will ever hear from me".

I didn’t speak a single word back. Not one but a breathy, "okay"… Not realizing the implications behind that phone call.

I knew it was a suicide note but, even sending someone over to make sure you didn’t hurt herself… I knew it would be a nail in the coffin- a symbolic suicide to the friendship we had.

Your family... They called me a monster. A freak. Someone who wrongly influenced their daughter. And I believed every word. Monster, monster, monster... It seemed so fitting for someone who managed to loose their best friend by just being themselves.

I still hear those words. I remember when I was called to the guidance office. The Monday after that phone call a formal investigation was launched against me.

I didn’t want to believe what you said on the phone was real but, my hopes were dashed as I stepped into Ms. P___'s office. The principal and all the other guidance counselor's were there.

Formal looking files and papers were on the desk and Mr. T___ looked upset.

He explained to me that your Mom and Grandparents called for my expulsion on the grounds of coercing you to commit suicide.

However, due to the lack of outstanding evidence and also my record with the school I could not be expelled on these grounds. I was told that your Grandpa would be by that day to collect all of your things and your guitar from the chorus room and that to solve the issue you would be moving schools.

I was appalled.

This was their idea of solving what was clearly an issue of mental illness in a teenager?

I knew your Grandfather was once the principal of (school name) at one point so his influence was heavy but, this is not how you help your grandkid. By sweeping another clearly mentally ill kid under the rug?

All of it… was appalling.
And I had no say in it.

If I had poor grades or a poor track record with the school I might have actually been expelled simply on a claim from a person that held a position of power to hold over the minor that I was at the time. That is wrong…

And I tried to look into it all the way up into my senior year but, Mr. T__avoided me like the plague. I couldn’t get near the man to talk to him for the next 3 years of high school.

He wouldn’t even look me in the eyes as I shook his hand at graduation.

And even if YOU blame me for everything. Even if you were to stand in front of me today, to point and cry 'Evil', to shout at me, to call me a monster;
I wouldn’t blame you.
I can't blame you.

I understand that all of that was just a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

I understand that was a product of the wrong place at the wrong time.

I understand that was the product of two people with depression in the same place at the same time.

I understand that was two people with a mental illness in a state that is terrible at treating mental illnesses.

I understand that was two people in a school system that lacks the proper resources to identify and help depressed and suicidal teens.
I understand…

And I will never blame you.
It's not who I am and it is not who I have become.

I have changed so much for the best and perhaps also for the worst.
I have changed so much and you will never know and you have changed so much and I will never know.

I still believe I am a monster.
I am a monster that consumes knowledge, art, and ideas.
I am a monster that defies what people think I should be and act.
I am a monster that lashes out against those who would take away basic human rights and those who seek to dehumanize the most human among us.
I am a monster that hoard's treasure in the form of beautiful and amazing people that make me proud everyday.
I am a monster that opens its maw and spits the fire of rage against the injustices of oppression I see.

I am a monster,
And to this day I hate phone calls.