1Broken Dreams | 30
A/N: This is my attempt at putting myself in the shoes of a woman struggling with Borderline Personality Disorder. I have Lupus and Fibromyalgia. My one issue with my Lupus is the Central Nervous System Involvement. Because of this, I am reaching out to more people who struggle with mental illness like myself. I believe it isn't what you have, it's how you deal with it, how you grow, and how you treat other people.
~Annie
L'amour est l'ouverture du coeur, l'accueil de votre bien-aimé. Aimer n'est pas sécurisé et authentique. Aimer est risqué, que sécurité réside behinds les murs d'un coeur fermé. Vous pouvez inviter soit l'union par une ouverture dans l'amour, ou vous sécuriser l'isolement par la fermeture.
I think in general most people were good.
But there were some people who were bad.
Some people who were just out for your soul.
Some people who just wanted to win.
I had been exposed to a lot of bad people.
So I liked to think that maybe I wouldn't get tricked again.
I wasn't sure...
I was young.
And young people made so many mistakes.
Being a woman was so different from being a man.
People expected different things from you.
And they always thought you couldn't do anything and that you couldn't be strong.
I hated being a woman sometimes.
I always felt so trapped.
Then whenever I lost things….
I gained things that were so much more special than I would have ever hoped.
But when I lost….it hurt more than anything.
I guess that was why people didn't want to lose.
Because they feared pain…
I went in and out.
I went out and in.
Things didn't always work out.
Why should I have worried?
It would be okay in the end.
I didn't really care about what people thought of me.
I used to and I would get so upset.
But really...what was the point?
If people didn't like me...then they didn't know me.
And if they didn't know me...then they didn't love me.
I didn't want people around who didn't love me.
Life was about living.
And if you didn't live, then how could you be happy?
People lived in so many different ways.
Some people were happy being home.
Others were happy being outside.
Happiness had multiple definitions.
For a while everything would be fine.
Then the sinking depression came in and I would question everything.
I wondered if anyone would truly love me and if I was going to make anything of myself.
This happened a lot.
But there was a way out.
I would close my eyes and imagine a better to be.
Despair didn't last forever.
People said it did, but they were liars.
Eventually, we'd all be ok.
When I saw the face of depression I couldn't run away.
So I stopped trying.
I Just stood there and fought.
So many people around the world were afflicted by that horrible disease.
If only they knew that someone out there really did care!
I had to see the truth and I had to smile.
Nothing happy could stay.
Some people lied to me.
While others were ashamed to tell me the truth.
Suicide was always an option.
But it didn't fix the way people see me.
People could have hated me even in death!
As I grew up things changed.
And as I changed people changed.
Anyone who stood with me was my sister.
Anyone who stood against me was my enemy.
They couldn't be both.
Peace would come when I didn't want it anymore.
I found peace in explaining my feelings to others.
And I didn't care if they judged.
You couldn't stop human nature.
My Dear friends, whom I loved as my life.
I wanted them to stay with me.
I hated waiting around doing nothing. The boredom was killing me. I had been out of work for about a year.
And each day that passed because harder and harder to deal with. I was unemployed and only taking two online classes.
Working kept me busy; it reminded me that not everything was at a loss.
I hated the sickness. I wanted to strangle it with my two bare hands.
I knew I was stronger than this. I knew I could do it. I was just too afraid of losing.
I was pale as a ghost. Chances are if you met me, you'd see right through me. My skin was about as white as it could be.
When I was younger I had a strange obsession with cutting. I used to want to ruin my skin. I wanted to see myself bleed. I wanted to punish myself for my sins.
I became an addict and barely made it out alive. Once I stopped I never wanted to do that stuff again. Now I have scars and people would look at me funny. There really was no freedom.
My hair was long and black. I had these beautiful natural curls. My eyes were a dark emerald. Most people told me the first thing they noticed about me was my eyes.
I had a square face and stern eyebrows. Everyone told me I was so beautiful. I never thought I was. I didn't have a boyfriend and I felt so lonely a lot of the time.
Sometimes I wondered if I would end up all alone.
I lived up in Colorado. It was a pretty state with many mountains. It was my favorite part of living in the west.
I hated the freezing winters and boiling summers. And I also hated that I was so far from everyone I knew.
I wanted to go back.
I loved the color purple and how it made me come alive. Whenever I was in a black depression I would feel compelled to cut or try to take my life. I would cry for no reason. I needed something to fill the tears.
Purple soothed me and set me free. And for some reason, that was enough to keep me alive.
I was an outgoing person. I had a lot of friends. But I didn't let many of them see the real me. I was a afraid of being judged. I feared what would happen after they found out I was screwed up. No, it was better to lie. No one would get hurt that way.
I wondered what the point was.
What was the point in fighting off sickness?
We were all made for some purpose.
Weren't we supposed to be made without damage?
How could I fulfill my purpose like this?
I wanted a great life.
As a child I dreamed of the kind of life I would have.
Now, seeing myself like this...I am not sure how I feel.
Most people saw no reason and point to life.
I wanted to ask them "why are you here then?"
If this is only temporary, can't we just leave?
For some reason I was drawn towards God.
I didn't know why...
But I always was so interested in religion.
Maybe I was an angel?
Maybe I was special?
If I was, then why couldn't I see and believe that?
Jesus could take away pain.
Jesus could cure sickness.
Sometimes I wished he would cure me.
Dark times were temporary.
And light would come again.
That's what everyone told me.
Could I believe that?
I never understood the masks people wore.
They claimed they were so good and kind.
But on the inside, it couldn't have been farther from the truth.
I wandered the great desert of life.
I asked people many questions.
I asked myself even more questions.
And I never got the answers I sought.
If God was true I wanted him to save me.
I wanted him to grab my hand and drag me away.
I wanted to go to a happier place.
I was a person.
Everything seemed weird to me.
It was cold.
It People were very strange.
They were so strange not even a scientist could decipher them. was always cold.
What was with the inconsistencies?
What was with the lying and cheating?
Why couldn't all people be good?
Once you take off a mask, you never want to see the mask again.
Because what is under the mask, isn't always pretty.
My favorite food was white rice. It was plain and easy to eat. I was drawn to the color white. It reminded me of everything I wasn't. It reminded me that I had to get well. All the blood and tears, what was it for? Would God save me? Was there really a way out?! I was tired of feeling this way. One minute happy, the next sad; being alone made me want to die. Being ditched made me want to stop trying. People just didn't like me. There was something wrong with me. No one could love me. I tried to get people to car but it never worked out. I was so tired of trying.
I drank too much. I needed to stop doing that. Drinking numbed the pain. I was always in too much emotional pain.
People hated me. They didn't want me around. I couldn't deal with that hate anymore!
How could people keep me alive when I was so dead inside? The hospital didn't want me to die. My parents always watched me.
I'd rather be dead. I didn't want to kill myself. I just wanted to die. There was a difference between giving up and suicide. A lot of people just didn't see the difference.
The more criticism I got the more I realized that I needed to be dead. No one would tease a dead girl.
Above all else I feared being alone. I would wait and count the minutes until the person got tired of me and left.
I never expected people to stay very long. Everyone would get annoyed and leave eventually.
I was outgoing but I felt like I didn't have any real friends.
My problem was that I loved too much. People never understood my needs.
Well that was their loss. I was tired of being all alone. The next person I saw would stay with me forever.
I had periods of anger that wreaked havoc on the world around me. I was tired of being mistreated so I sought revenge.
I yelled and screamed. I beat people. I didn't feel guilty. They deserved it. After all the hell I went through, at least they would know how I felt all those years.
I exacted revenge. I was a bad person now. And I didn't care.
Out of all the losers I knew I had only one true friend. His name was Sparky. Sparky was my cat. Strangely enough he was a black cat.
Some people were superstitious. I didn't buy into that crap. In my mind most theories were based on garbage. I followed my heart. I loved sparky. He loved me. He was the only animal that loved me.
I was a Christian and part of me wondered why. Why did I believe in God? All he did was ignore me? I was so tired of being all alone. I wanted someone to love me.
God treated me like everyone else did. And as I stood in a church, I couldn't have felt more alone.
I was the person I was.
Unfortunately some people didn't accept me.
I felt like an outcast sometimes, and I wondered if I would ever make real friends.
All I knew was this disease was horrible and I spent so much time hoping for a cure.
But as I woke up each morning I knew there wouldn't be one.
Not many people understand me and the pain I went through.
I was called a drama queen a lot of the time.
And I was told to get over it.
You couldn't get over this horrible ordeal.
I wished those people would know and understand me.
"You have electricity and a roof over your head Kade. There are people who are worse off than you are. Why do you keep complaining. Pull yourself out of it and move on with your life."
Some random Lesbian told me this a long time ago. Apparently I was selfish. I guess that made me a bad person.
I should have punished myself, but I was too wimpy.
I wanted to punch the Lesbian in the face for saying something that insulting. However, she was right. I was pathetic. People had it way worse than me. Why was I complaining?
There was blackness in my heart. No matter what I did or said, it stayed. I hated it so much.
"Why don't you just kill yourself instead of standing around bitching?"
People asked me this all the time. They were right. Why did I complain? Suicide was just a slash away.
Sometimes the darkeness would pull me in. I didn't have a choice in the matter. I had to go. Everything was dark there and I was filled with fear and thoughts of death. Then suddenly the darkness would disappear and I would be in a place filled with light. Whenever I saw the wrong thing or was insulted I would fall back into the darkness. Sometimes I wouldn't come out.
What made me this way?
I don't quite remember.
All I know is that it was awful, and I never want to remember it.
People were so mean to me.
Why couldn't they just leave me alone?
The green eyed monster was ugly.
Drama was petty.
Even in the light the shadow breathed heavily.
There was no escape.
I walked down the street in the cold weather.
My tears hung in the air.
It didn't matter anymore.
I walked over to my best friend's house. Her name was Arti. She was my only real friend.
My friend was a bit of an outsider herself.
We got along better than anyone else.
She had Bulimia.
We both hated ourselves.
I knocked on the door.
She opened it slowly. Her eyes were tired and worn.
"Kade," she smiled.
"It's good to see you. I missed you so much."
"I missed you too. It's hard going through this thing all alone."
We didn't say anything to each other for a while.
There was nothing to say.
She was my best friend.
She was my guide.
I didn't want to lose my friend.
I hugged her.
"Will this pain ever go away?"
She looked at me sadly.
"No, I don't think so."
"Will there ever be a cure?"
"No...people don't care about those with BPD."
"Why?"
"Because if it is not about them, they do not care."
"That's awful!"
"I know, but it's the way it is."
I hated being single. I felt like no one wanted me. I was 21. My best friend had a husband and she was only a year older. They were discussing having children. I couldn't even get a date!
What kind of a person was I?
I had a boyfriend a long time ago, but I was stupid and lost him. I cheated on him.
I loved him, and I betrayed him. I thought he was going to leave me. I didn't want to be all alone so I hurt him before he could hurt me. Except he wasn't going to hurt me, he wasn't going to hurt me at all. He found out what I did and dumped me. I still tried to get him to take me back. He cut me out of his life. I was devastated.
I wasn't sure how I felt about having children. Part of me didn't want to pass on what I had to my kids. The other part of me wanted to become one with my children who were technically a piece of me. I was a horrible person and an unfit mother. No one in their right mind would have let me have kids. I doubted anyone would sleep with me either.
I was evil; I was a bad person. BPD was an awful disease. I never fit in. Even around people who had BPD.
I was tired of all the judgment. I wanted to be myself.
The one thing people recalled about me was that I was a difficult person. I had a few hours that went by when I became so upset and evil.
People would try to cheer me up. It never worked. I was angry. I was sad. I was convinced that no one liked me, that there was something wrong with me.
I pushed people away. I locked them out of my life. I didn't want pity. I couldn't get over it! I was who I was!
Hours went by when I was in so much pain. During those times I wanted to die.
The only thing I could do well was writing.
Writing saved me.
I hated being all alone. I didn't like losing people in my life. When people left I was filled with pain. I blamed myself. I wanted to die.
I hated this existence. I hated being abnormal. Why couldn't I be normal? I wanted freedom from myself.
God, why did you leave me here to die?!
I wasn't a normal girl; I had a secret.
I cut myself.
I wasn't trying to kill myself. I wasn't looking for attention.
I didn't want attention at all. I didn't like people prying into my life. It pissed me off.
I wanted to feel something when I was sick. I wanted to punish myself. Life was too hard.
I felt the monster inside me.
I tried to fight it off, but I failed.
No one knew what I was dealing with.
They couldn't see the creature.
The creature didn't have a face.
There was a storm, but everyone thought it was sunny.
There wasn't much people could do for me.
Words just didn't lift the depression.
Words didn't dissolve the pain.
It was so painful to accept that.
I wanted to feel better.
I was tired of being sick.
The tears fell freely.
I cried in private always.
No one was going to see my tears.
Everyone wondered what made me this way.
I honestly did not know.
I remember the pain of being a little girl.
Being taken advantage of.
I carried those scars with me forever.
I stopped caring.
I stopped trusting.
I stopped living.
Anxiety was my blood.
Depression was my soul.
Suicide was my choice.
All caused by this virus...this evil tumor...
I wanted to live again.
I wanted to stop punishing myself.
I wanted to love me...
This was an invisible disease.
The only remnants were the scars on my legs.
And the dried tears in my notebook.
Beauty riddled with pain.
Pain riddled with beauty.
Life couldn't exist without death.
Why can't people be simpler?
It was so hard to trust with all the bad people out there.
What if I made a mistake and trusted the wrong person?
This was so hard.
I knew I wasn't crazy.
No one was crazy.
Besides really crazy people don't even realize anything is wrong.
I was aware of my problems.
No one was going to be a label on me.
As time went by things changed.
It wasn't something to fear.
It was something to embrace.
When a person was sick they were basically on their own.
They didn't consciously know that of course.
It was just something that was in the inner reaches of their mind.
I wanted to help but I felt so small. Normal people never felt small. They were never ignored by anyone. They were treated like people.
I felt like I was less of a person. I was ill, I was damaged. People ditched sick people. I was sick.
They didn't understand me. Once they found out I was sick they left.
I was negative, I was honest. I didn't say anything but the truth. Since when was telling the truth a sin? Why couldn't I say what I was feeling? I hated the hypocrisy!
I didn't know how I would be patient. The sickness would play out its course. There would be days where I was very sick. Then there would be days when I thought I was cured. The rain would always fall and the sun would always shine. It was up to me to fight. I was terrified.
I wanted to die. Everything was bleak, and I was tired of the despair. I thought about what it would be like to die and what it would feel like. I imagined being taken away by angels.
Then I realized I could never go through with it. What could I do?
Death just wasn't an option, no matter how much I wanted to die.
I didn't like the end of the road. I wished there was another fork. I didn't want anyone getting in the way of my recovery. And if they did, they wouldn't again.
I was tired of the monster hounding me. I wanted to be free.
It was hard to smile at myself. The pain penetrated deep.
Blood, rain, and tears.
I played by those rules. I was messed up but I was me. I was always me. And I really did love my strong spirit.
Trying to be alive was hard. I didn't want to make the effort. I didn't want to try.
My empathy was my gift. I didn't want anyone to feel what I was feeling. That's why I cared so much.
Being taken against my will changed me. I couldn't deny it anymore. I was different.
A personality disorder didn't change who I was. All it changed was how other people saw me.
Sleepless nights…
Dreamless days…
When would it end?
I hated being angry.
I hated the idea of being angry.
I wanted to get rid of those bad feelings.
But I couldn't...because it was the way I was.
Anger was a part of Borderline Personality Disorder.
I thought everyone got angry?
I thought it was normal to get angry.
When was anger bad?
The fear of being alone haunted me.
It was like a monster following my footsteps.
A dark shadow it was and a demon.
It was going to be hard to get out of this.
I was a horrible person for hurting other people.
I should have been dead instead of alive.
I would always feel guilty.
Why did I hurt them?
"You can't blame yourself Kade! It wasn't your fault."
"It is my fault."
"No it is not, stop blaming yourself."
"Everything is my fault."
How could I live with myself?
Everything was my fault.
If it wasn't for me...
She would have had a good life.
People never asked me why I was so angry.
They never wanted to know why.
They just assumed and then they judged.
They didn't even know me.
There was a saying: Never judge a book by its cover.
It meant: don't judge before you know a person.
It was so hypocritical.
People never read my inside.
I was a good person.
I was a good read.
I deserved to be read.
But the more people left me, the more I hurt.
The people who picked me up and accepted me...
Weren't the people I wanted!
They were shady people.
They were unbalanced.
I was normal compared to them.
I wanted to be that way again.
I knew there wasn't a normal in this world.
But all the same...those were my feelings.
I missed the way things used to be.
The phone rang. I knew it was for me.
"Hello?" Melissa asked on the other line.
"Hey, it's me," I answered. "What's up?"
"There's a party tonight. Are you coming?"
A party….there would be booze, pot and ecstasy. That was a given. Everyone would be stumbling around drunk. I didn't care. I had a horrible day. All I wanted to do was drink my sorrows away.
So I said yes. I was going to the party. I was going to regret it but I didn't care. Drinking numbed my brain.
When my brain was numb I didn't hurt anymore.
It was a party. It was a place for people to get buck wild and not give a damn.
I could hear my mom's voice in my ears.
She never approved of partying.
I didn't care about what she thought anymore. She didn't matter. She didn't understand me or even try to understand me. While I was being ravaged she just watched. I didn't care.
My mom was a judgmental person. She was a nice person, but a terrible mother.
She didn't take time to understand my illness. No one did actually. I desperately wanted someone, anyone to understand me and what I was going through.
This was no picnic for me. I never wanted to be this way. I felt horrible for what I did to other people.
I felt so guilty! But no one tried to understand.
I was all alone in this and I hated it. I felt so lonely.
Going to the party was a means of rebellion. I was 21 and could legally drink. However, my mother decided to be controlling.
Her younger sister was a drug addict. Somehow, she thought I was going to end up that way.
I didn't know where she got the idea from. I had no freedom. My mom always was trapped in a deep depression. I was criticized for having a temper and for expressing my feelings. I was so sick of it all.
I wouldn't treat a dog the way she treated me. She never hit me or anything, but I could tell she wasn't very fond of me.
There was something about me that reminded her of her sister.
I put on make and began to get dressed for the party.
Maybe getting drunk would wipe out the pain?
Oh, God….I hoped so!
It was so dark and cold outside. I couldn't drive to the party. I had no liscense. I was too afraid to drive.
I was going to have to walk four blocks. I was going to have to also be careful about how much I drank.
If I drank too much I could break my ankle. I didn't need that bull crap.
I was going to be careful.
As I started to walk, darkness came over me.
I was so depressed.
I wasn't sure if it would lift this time.
As I walked down the street I started to think.
I was free.
I was finally free.
I hated being home.
I hated being alone.
I wanted to have fun.
So many people pissed me off.
I wanted to delete everyone out of my life.
People were so petty.
It seemed like the walk was going on forever.
The party was four blocks away.
It was times like this when I wished I had a car.
The chilly air bounced off my skin.
I was beginning to get goose bumps.
My bones felt so cold.
I heard joyful cries.
The party was going on.
As I kept walking, I could hear the songs that were playing.
The house was a dark blue.
There was a huge group of people coming up to the house.
I walked up to the door. I was instantly let in.
It paid to be a girl!
I walked down the stone steps and into the basement.
Now where was the beer?
Strangely it was on the first floor.
I never understood that.
Why would anyone put the beer on the first floor?
Most people had to climb up and down the stairs to get the beer.
The stairs were so dangerous. You could die if you missed a step.
My friend Melissa was already at the party.
We agreed to meet where the beer was.
I had to push through a bunch of dumbasses to get upstairs.
They were serving Keystone Light.
It was a crappy brand of beer.
I waved when Melissa saw me.
I had to push through hoards of people to get to her.
"Hey, you're finally here," she smiled.
I laughed.
"Some party huh?"
"It rocks," I grinned.
"How's your mom?"
"The same way she usually is..."
"Bitchy?"
"Basically…yeah, that was how she was."
"Why is she always so mean?"
"I don't know, maybe she woke up on the wrong side of the bed?"
Melissa laughed.
My family was insane.
Why couldn't I have a normal family?
Why was my mom such a weirdo?
How come my dad wasn't in the picture?
Damn it all!
"Want a beer?" Melissa asked.
"Sure."
The beer was bitter.
All keystones were bitter.
I wanted to drink my sorrows away.
The only thing standing in my way was the stairs.
One wrong step and I would seriously break something.
The music went on. No matter what I thought. The notes hung in the air.
I felt tears fall from my eyes. Even around all these people. I felt so alone. It was a bizarre feeling. I grabbed Melissa by the arm.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
I shrugged.
"I…don't…f…eel…so good."
She looked concerned.
"What?! Why?"
"I don't know I'm just sick to my stomach. Too much stimulation or something, I feel nauseous."
"We should go home then," she suggested.
"No we just got here! I just need a beer."
Drinking solved everything. It was my drug of choice. Trouble sleeping? Drink a beer. Depressed? Drink another beer. Want to forget? Drink a six pack.
Soon enough the pain would fade away and I would feel normal again.
I drank a couple beers. I felt dizzy, but at least the pain was gone.
I never wanted to feel that way again.
"Okay, you're on your third drink," she warned. "You need to stop."
I laughed.
"Why?"
"You're going to kill yourself!"
"If you knew me you'd know I wouldn't give a damn!"
"Kade, please don't do this! We're here to have fun."
Fun…? No, we weren't having fun. My version of fun was a lot more sinister.
I put the beer down. "Fine," I gave in. "If that's what you want."
She took my hand. "Let's dance," she suggested. "It'll take your mind off this."
We danced for what seemed an eternity. The flashing lights, the blatant scent of pot…it really was a frat party! The more stoned I felt the weaker the scent of death became.
Maybe this was my cure?
After we danced Melissa decided it was time to talk. She led me down the stairs and into the darkest part of the basement.
We stood in the shadows together.
"This is an odd place for a chat," I stated.
"What's going on?"
The question was simple, but the answer was so complicated.
I didn't know how I would answer it.
"What's going on?" she asked again.
"I don't know," it was an honest answer.
"I don't believe you."
"Why?"
"Because you always lied."
The statement hit me like a tidal wave.
I lied?
I never even thought about that.
Was I a liar?
"I lie?" The words caught in my throat.
She nodded.
"All the time…lying is your trademark."
"I'm sorry."
'It's okay...what is really going on?"
"A lot of shit, it's hard to explain."
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"My mom is losing it," I explained.
"What?"
"She has Borderline Personality Disorder," I explained.
"What the hell is that?"
"It's a personality disorder."
"I knew it was a personality Disorder. But what is it?"
"It's a mental illness. The people affected have unstable and intense relationships with other people. They can't tolerate being along. They can't tolerate being too intimate with another people. They have to hurt themselves to deal with the pain of the illness. They hate themselves."
Melissa's eyes widened. "Holy shit!" she gasped.
I nodded. "Yeah and I might have it too," I stated.
"What?"
"It's genetic; it runs in families."
"How did you find this out?"
"My mom ended up in the ER."
"Oh my god, is she okay?!"
"She tried to slit her wrists."
"Why?"
"She felt all alone. She didn't know she was slicing a vein or artery."
I didn't want to say anymore, but I knew I would have to.
"You see, while they were trying to stop the bleeding they were getting my mother a referral to see a psychiatrist. When my mom finally went, they diagnosed her with Borderline Personality Disorder."
"Just like that…I thought the system was slower?"
I laughed darkly. "Of course not... After misdiagnosing her a few dozen times they finally figured out she had BPD. Now they are suspicious of me having it too. Go figure."
"Do you think you have it?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm not a doctor?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know."
We didn't know what to say to each other.
How could we?
Both of us were clueless.
I just wanted the night to be over.
I immediately regretted going to the party.
I wanted to go home.
Melissa was a good friend but she was too nosy.
I hated it when people were too nosy.
Why couldn't everyone mind their own business?
It wasn't that I didn't want to talk; I just didn't know what to say.
I loved Melissa, but she couldn't know about my life.
No one could.
I kept people locked out of my life and locked away. It was the best way to protect myself from rejection. The more people knew the more of a chance they could have to hurt me. I couldn't take that risk, I wouldn't take that risk.
My mom hurt me with her words and actions. Those scars would never heal. I wasn't going to let anyone else hurt me like she did.
"Kade?" Melissa interrupted my dark thoughts. "What do you honestly think?"
I rolled my eyes. "I told you, I just don't know. Why isn't that a good enough answer?"
Why was she so interested in my life? Just because my mom had Borderline Personality Disorder didn't make me a ticking time bomb. I was still Kade!
"What's your problem?" She looked like she was about to cry.
"Nothing, my problem is nothing."
"I'm just trying to help you."
"I know and I appreciate it."
"Then why aren't you going to tell me anything?"
"You'll think I'm a burden….everyone does."
"I don't think you're a burden!" Melissa yelled. "You're my best friend!"
She reached out her hand. I was supposed to take it. Everyone took the hand of their best friend. Everyone needed help sometimes. I was too afraid. I didn't trust her. I didn't trust many people.
She stared at me, trying to read my facial expressions. "Don't you trust me?"
I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything. What was there to say? I wasn't going to lie. I didn't trust her and that was how I felt!
"This is awkward," I stated. "It's not you…it's me. I don't trust anyone."
She sat down in the corner. She looked up at me. "Why?"
Why…it was a loaded word. There were so many reasons why I was screwed up, but only one stood in my mind.
"My mother showed me the true hatred of mankind."
People were started to filter out of the party. I was growing edgy. I wanted to go home. I disliked talking about my past. I wanted to drown my sorrows out with booze and dancing.
"Come on," I gestured to the stairs. "Let's go."
"Where are we going to go?"
Out, this party was over. We made our way out of the frat house. It was even colder than before. As we left we heard the siren of police cars. Wow, that was lucky!
While the party was getting busted we walked down the street. It was a clear night and the stars could easily be seen. It was so beautiful.
I wished my life was this beautiful, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.
I was a victim of my mom's illness. Well, at least it felt that way sometimes. I wanted things to be different but I wasn't sure how it would be done.
My mom was in a lot of pain. It was evident by the look on her face. She didn't have physical pain so no one believed she really was sick. But I knew she was. Her tears, her screams, they were all very real.
My mother had Borderline Personality Disorder and now people wondered if I had it. I was afraid of learning the horrible truth, but I knew it was unavoidable.
My mom was abandoned by her mother. She was raised by her older sister. Her sister was only 10 years older than her. God, life was hard.
I wished it was easier. I wished people understood, I wished I could be myself without people judging me.
I knew that never would happen. I was used to it, it was okay now. I was a freak.
Melissa looked at me in alarm. "You haven't talked to me in ten minutes."
I blinked. Had it really been that long? "Sorry," I apologized.
"The beer getting to you, isn't it?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I think I am just in a nasty mood."
"Where do we go now, Kade?"
"Anywhere but here, I just want to forget."
Where was here? Where was there? Was there a hero? Were there villains? I didn't know. I stopped caring a long time ago. Something kept pushing me forward.
I wasn't sure what it was.
I just wanted out of this nightmare. I looked up to the stars. Was there really a God? I wanted him to come and save me!
We kept walking until we came up to the river down the street. I felt an odd feeling as we were walking down to the lake.
Someone was following us. Well, it felt that way. Who would follow us? What did they want? I was so scared! The anxiety was overwhelming, it felt like someone was choking my heart.
I couldn't breathe!
I couldn't see!
I couldn't be.
"Melissa," I began. "Something weird is going on."
She looked up at me in concern.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I don't know…someone is following us."
"What….Who?"
"I don't know."
I told her to walk faster. Whoever or whatever it was wouldn't be able to follow if we outran it. The night only got darker as we ran. We didn't know where we were going. All we knew was that we were going far away from there.
We finally couldn't run any further. We had to stop and rest! I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I was so terrified then. I didn't know what I was facing. I wanted it to stop!
'Leave me alone!' I wanted to shout, but the words wouldn't come out. I gagged and choked on my own fear. I wasn't going to be able to escape this time!
"Kade," Melissa gasped. "I'm scared!"
Everything went white. I couldn't see. All I felt was the cold touch of the ground.
I opened my eyes to a world I did not know. A world that seemed so strange to me. This world was in fact reality.
I felt the cold fear in Melissa's hand as she tried to pull me up from the ground. "What happened?" I asked.
She gulped. "You had a panic attack. Your heart almost stopped."
I had a panic attack? Oh my God. I felt like a freak already! How did it happen? What happened to me?!
"I don't get it," I stated. "I don't understand what happened….."
"You basically almost scared yourself to death," she stated quietly.
"And the person chasing us….?"
"Never existed…."
My eyes widened. I made all of that up? How could that have happened? I thought I was sane. What was happening to me? Was I losing my mind? Please God, please take me away from all this! I hate it so much.
"I'm worried about you Kade," she said softely. "Maybe you should go back to the doctor."
I shook my head. "No," I rebelled. "Then I would be as screwed up as my mother. I'm not going down to her level. I just won't do it."
She took my hand. "Kade," she insisted. "They could help you….don't you want to feel better?"
Of course I did! But there was a difference between going and going of your own free will.
I wanted the pain to stop but I wasn't sure how much I could do. Oh the pain, it hurt so much. But I wasn't sure what to do anymore. It seemed so hopeless.
I wanted to give up.
But I knew Melissa wouldn't let me.
"Would you go with me?" I asked.
She nodded. "Of course."
I knew I couldn't face myself alone. I knew she was going to have to help me. I was glad to have her as a friend. I didn't know how to deal with this all alone.
I did feel alone sometimes, even though I knew there were other people out there worse off than me. I just wish they knew what this was like.
Which way was home? I had already forgotten. "I'm sorry mom," I whispered. "I let you down."
"You didn't let her down," Melissa assured me. "This is a step to a different world."
I was confused. "A different world?"
"Yes, things would be different from now on."
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