Broken Home

Untitled Part 1

Living a life that has experienced their parents divorcing twice, you learn not to drown. But sometimes,

You choke on everything going on around you.

You pretend your life isn't happening, because if you acknowledge it, it's like you throw yourself into voluntary madness. You can't feel anything, because if you do, the slightest acknowledgement that you aren't just going through the motions of life, it feels like too much.

And that's what happened that night. I let myself feel too much, and I snapped. I noticed an old picture of me on a friends Facebook page that I never talked to. I let myself read all the comments.

How I was unlovable because I never saw how a real relationship worked. How I was the reason the second divorce happened. Because if I wasn't a mental case, my stepfather wouldn't have cheated on my mom. How I was the reason that three of my siblings had to go through that nasty year with me. How my brother, who is always so quiet and docile, was so upset that he was throwing up for days because he thought my mom would leave too. That because I had been raped during my only relationship that I was damaged goods and that nobody would want me.

I threw my laptop across the room so hard it smashed on impact, leaving a dent so deep it made a hole through the drywall. I wanted to disappear completely, and I knew how to. Those pills I used to take for depression were still in the bathroom cabinet. I had nearly a month worth there, because I hated feeling numb all the time, even though it felt better than real life.

I turned the speakers up in my apartment, so nobody could hear me if I started crying while I left, or if I decided last minute not to do it and call out for help. I grabbed the pill bottle, along with some extra strength Advil and a bottle of vodka I had in the kitchen from the last time friends were over. I made my way over to the couch in the middle of the living room, completely at peace about what I was about to do.

I took a deep breath and started popping pills. I downed them all with large mouthfuls of alcohol, enjoying the burn that would be the last thing I felt.

I sat there, leaning back on the couch, almost slumped over as I felt the medications take over my system. I was finally calm, this was what I had needed for years now. As I felt my eyes close for the last time, I heard a familiar song come over the speakers. I felt myself tense as I tried to break through the medicated haze, but it was too late.

It felt like someone was pulling me forward into their arms to join them as I felt myself slip away.

All I could see was white as my eyes opened. They stung from the bright lights, and I felt my stomach flip as I resisted the urge to throw up. I clenched my eyes back shut and tried to take in the environment with touch. I felt restricted around my legs and was laying in a bed with my head slightly raised. Based on that, I guessed I was in a hospital. I turned to what my arms were feeling. I felt an IV taped to my right arm. I could tell that my hair was tied up at the top of my head, probably in a messy bun to keep it out of my face while I was out.

I tried opening my eyes again, and it was less painful. I looked around the room. There was a TV mounted on the wall, but it wasn't on. I could hear soft music coming from the window, and I slowly turned my head to find an iPod plugged into the wall, playing familiar music. It was soothing yet hurt my heart. It was by the same artist that made me second guess my actions. But it was also more than that. I couldn't think of that though.

I continued to scan the room, looking for anything else familiar. I saw an unfamiliar suitcase in the corner of the room, which spiked my curiosity. I saw the garbage beside the suitcase, full of McDonalds wrappers and Tim Hortons coffee cups. So someone has been here with me. I continue to scan the room until I came across a sight that almost made me jump enough to fall out of the bed.