The New American Dream

Part Two: Loss | Chapter Ten

You get to eat and Mark doesn't. You don't deserve it.

I cried most of the time, when I didn't cry I slept while previously having cried myself to sleep and only passing out from exhaustion. Every minute was pure torture, breathing was painful.

You get to breath and Mark doesn't. How dare you?

Even if I wanted to cut open my own skin, I didn't. I didn't have the energy to even open my drawer and take the blade. Like I said, that was probably due to the heavy medication.

This whole endeavor lasted for about three and a half weeks, then the tears had run dry and the emptiness spread inside of me. A week into that I wasn't sure what was worse, constant pain or no feelings at all, not a single one.

I had finally taken a shower, but not because I had wanted to but because my mom had threatened me with something. By the time I was in the shower I didn't even remember what it was she had threatened me with. I had to sit down in the shower because standing was too much and for the life of me I could not remember what my mother had said to me. I only knew she probably didn't want to be mean to me, she was only worried and had to find a way to finally get me into the shower.

Even if I was drugged out of my mind and empty beyond belief I still reasoned that my parents must care about me at least a little bit, otherwise they wouldn't take the immense cost of the medication and therapist visits on themselves.

Speaking of therapists, for now I didn't go visit them. I didn't even have the energy. Once a week he came and talked with me to see about my medication. I had a suspicion they had increased it that's why I had stopped crying and started to feel this empty. But no one told me anything, why would they? I was just the one who had to put it in me and sit quietly.

After my shower I permanently moved to my armchair, refusing to leave it again. Mom begged me to at least move to my bed when I wanted to sleep but I refused, I didn't have the energy and I liked my spot. I couldn't stand my own bed anymore. Once again I stared into nothingness for hours on end, occasionally I slipped into sleep but it wasn't restful at all. I felt more exhausted every time I woke up and half the time I wasn't even sure whether I had slept at all or just spaced out. Whenever I woke up I was instantly reminded of the horrors of this world and hoped I would just close my eyes and never wake up again. I didn't deserve to breathe.

Memories drifted through my mind like a movie, the same memories over and over again on a loop, even when I was asleep. That made the question whether I was sleeping at all or not even harder to answer. Occasionally a different memory slipped in but it was largely the same. A loop of torture running through my brain.

Mark on his bass guitar, playing a song with us. All of us on the beach last year when Mark and I had still dated and he had his arm around me as we sat on a towel in the sand. Us swimming in the ocean on the same trip. Mark and me in the park that Saturday before the speech, pointing to the clouds and laughing so hard my stomach hurt. Mark kissing me, his warm arms around my body. Me breaking up with him and him trying hard not to cry. Him being understanding of my reasons for breaking up with him and hugging me tightly. How good of a friend he still was after I broke up with him. All of us sitting outside on the grass on summer break before Junior year, at night and watching the stars. Mark making a stupid joke that everyone laughed at still, simply because our humor was fucked up like that. Mark at the first concert we had ever attended together and how excited he had been, just like me. How his eyes had lit up when we had seen Homesick Soldiers for the first time or even when we saw them for the last time together. Mark giving me the necklace I was always wearing and him slipping the bracelet on my arm, telling me he was there for me. Mark lending me his sweater because my mom had taken all my stuff. How much he had thought we were doing the right thing in interrupting the speech. Mark smiling at me when I had asked him how he was doing the morning we had returned to school. Him kissing me, him kissing me, him kissing me.