Glowing like a milky orb, the moon douses me in scattered light as I awkwardly slip out the window and into the warm, welcoming night. Cautiously I step forward, peeking upward at my parents window. No movement. Just the flash of light as each new slide appears on the television screen. Sighing quietly, guilt washes over me for a couple seconds, only to be quickly replaced with apparent apathy. I need to leave. I need to try not to think. Crossing the backyard, I venture down the hill and into the somehow hospitable forest I traveled time and time again. A sudden memory grabs hold of me, forcing my mind to recollect.
One glance into my mocking memory and perhaps you may understand the irony. I'm at least 6 years young. Sheets of snow cover the moist earth and pine cones. Everything appears white except the trunks of the pines, which seem black with moisture. Dad pulls me in a two-man, purple sled down the hill. My pudgy, red cheeks grin with elation as I zigzag through the maze of foliage. Curly golden-toned hair whips across my face as I scream with astonishment when my little brother aims clumsy snowballs at my puffy pink snow coat.
Then the memory freezes.
Picture a caring father, smiling with ease at his children's amusement and glee. Imagine a young child, tripping in his disproportional snow boots after his sisters' sled trail, smiling with delight as he threw what he thought to be the perfect snowball. Picture two sisters holding onto each other for dear life as they whoosh at 60mph in their little fantasy world through blankets and blankets of icy snow.
Now picture that same blonde girl, only about 10 years later. The young girl's eyes scream emptiness. Her features reveal no trace of delight: no evidence of anything. The only residue of emotion left on her pale complexion is the typical teenage, impulsive wit.
She's me. A so-called "victim" of life and everything it so generously brings. I'm walking at a brisk pace now; my ear buds in place, hands in his jacket; eyes aimed at the ground. The moonlight gives everything a dull, foggy tone, like someone switched my visual from color to gray-scale. I turn onto the path, directing my Converse left towards the mailboxes and onto the road. The gleaming array of stars above does not bring the usual sensation of wonder and gratification. Instead, it gives only mild awe with a hint of monotony and sarcastic amusement.
I'm finally on the road now, though that doesn't mean much if you live in Elizabeth, the city of a million dirt roads that lead to the middle of nowhere and everywhere. A cool breeze rushes my messy hair back behind my shoulders. At this point, I'm half-singing, half-humming to my MP3 now. The songs set the mood. One moment I'm gloomy, and the next, bubbly. I go from bubbly to angry to cynical, finally ending with spontaneous, which is where I began.
My little adventure is now starting to become dream-like. Lights from nearby houses, passing cars, and periodic streetlights seem more vivid than usual. It's all slowly turning into a foggy, dubious blur. Despite all this, I somehow manage to stay alert and aware.
Or not. I think I just tripped over something, because my shin is now tingling under its pathetic covering of skinny jeans. I wonder why I can't feel the pain. Perhaps it isn't meant to hurt. I allowed that notion to encompass my mind, only to find my brain overworking itself.
Trudging on, I felt somewhat like a zombie, mechanically walking forward - step after step; I couldn't stop, and I was always looking down. I was in a trace. Sometime later, I realized I was finally approaching town. Lights from nearby business buildings were illuminating their surroundings, and I think it's starting to rain.
My mind is becoming tired. Sporadic throbs in my head question my willpower, only to be answered by patches of blackness in my vision. An internal battle rages on, and I'm hanging by fingertips, desperately trying to regain my grip before I slip, unseen, into the threatening chasm below. A new, unfamiliar fear encompasses me, and without thinking, I release my grip, suspended in nothingness. I grope the air to touch reality, but instead of feeling the wanted security, I plummet downwards.
And I fall.
New thoughts fire themselves at my incapable brain, and quite suddenly, my vision flips. Sinister sky stretches out before me, and all I can conclude at the moment is that either my brain got confused about which way was up, or I had tripped. How could the latter be possible? I'd felt nothing at all: no pressure from hitting the firm ground, no dampness as moisture normally would've seeped into my clothes. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Or maybe it did, but I didn't hear it.
Down and under I go.
My whole being is tingling with a frenzied disbelief, yet that constant reminder intoxicates all.
I can't resurface.
I'm drowning beneath these obstructive emotions, and they're feasting on what's left of my strength. The current is relentlessly pulling me into its voracious waters. It's wrenching my mind from a place once pleasant and reassuring. I'm caught in the current, encompassed by that unfamiliar paranoia, drenched in unmerciful hopelessness, yet somehow numb to the misery of it all.
***
Time passes as it always does, whether by seconds or by days, but this time like a blurred dream set on fast-forward, slowing vaguely at the falsely significant moments. Anything and everything is now surrounded by a thick fog of confusion, shielding me from the memories best left forgotten, and the inevitable pain I await with dejection.
I resurface.
Just as expected, the agony frantically takes control, clawing a deep hole into my chest. I'm stung by what I see, and hurt by what I know. Memories attack, each blow threatening to knock me back under. It's like they're screaming at me to surrender, and they burn, engraving another reminder forever in my mind.
***
"No...no, you can't leave. No." I sobbed stubbornly yet pathetically into his shoulder, shaking and weak.
"There's no other way..." His gentle voice replied as he held me close. It seemed as if he was trying with all his might to keep the agony out of his tone.
I shook my head as he pushed me back gently to look at me. He examined my face, his dark eyes darting across my features, almost like they were memorizing every detail. I looked back at him, but then quickly away. Regardless of the fact he could keep some of the pain out of his voice, his eyes looked tortured. Deep concern and many other emotions I chose to ignore were written all over his face. I couldn't look again. I might lose it.
"This isn't right..." He said softly, but this time agony saturated his words. Reaching up slowly, he cupped my cheek with one hand. I closed my eyes tightly, placing my hand over his. Somehow tears still managed to squeeze themselves out of the corner of my eyes.
I felt so weak, so hopeless. Yet I was numb, my whole being determined to not accept. Everything is frozen, like ice. Not time itself, but everything. It's a translucent blue: a soft, innocent color, but somehow it manages to rip me apart. Somehow it makes me want to stop feeling.
Somehow I feel lifeless without actually being dead.
