Sometimes I could feel the darkness enclosing on me, crushing my breathe before it could reach my lungs. I could see the night swallow the sun, leaving me alone in the dark. Darkness does things to my mind, things that remind me I’ve never been who I’m supposed to be. I’ve always been too disappointing. The black sheep of the family, the outcast and nonconformist. I’ve always been bursting at the seams, but it is my fault. I cut myself open and stitch myself back together every night, hoping against all previous experience that something would change. 

You can’t stitch yourself back together, I’ve noticed. It never quite works. You stitch yourself loosely, knowing you can cut right through the seams the next day. You never quite finish the job, leaving a loose thread to pull apart when you can’t handle it anymore. Some nights I wish that the night would take me with the day, and spit me out the next morning. Maybe not. Maybe the night should just keep me, bury me in the sky and keep me there. I would rather be gone than here. Day after day, a monotonous routine of the same schedule, the same people, the same self. Why should I endure this? 

Endurance of the void is something I can only handle for so long. Nothingness is worse than sadness, because at least when I’m sad, I still feel. When it’s nothingness, I’m just floating in space. Nothing makes me happy, nothing makes me sad. I just pop a pill that they tell me will make me feel better, but numbness, I feel, is worse than whatever sadness I felt before. The numbness is just a hole I fall into, slipping away from myself. Simply going, going, going. 

I rolled over, looking at the rising sun, climbing up the slats of my window and into my bed. It was too bright to keep looking. The clock read 4:48AM in bold green, and the flashing red light on top indicated my alarm set for 6:00AM was still active. I threw an arm over my burning eyes, determined to get at least a moments sleep. I knew it was too late to be granted that wish, but I could hope. I groped along my bedside table, looking for my necklace. My pulse started to pick up as I felt around and found nothing, but eased right back down as I felt it. 

It was an old talisman, nothing but a small heart on a chain. I used to joke that it was the only heart I had, but it felt true. I had no friends, no love. Just a cold metal heart that couldn’t beat. My heart sat still in my chest, a heavy sadness stifling it from continuing to move. It was the same sadness that weighed on my bones, making it hard to move.The sadness that made my head pound and my mouth dry. Just sadness in a little trinket.

I watched as the night retched up the day and began to sink slowly down. I much preferred the night rather than the day. I felt more vulnerable, more open at night. I let myself be sad or angry without feeling ashamed at the emotion. I also felt happier and warmer at night. The stars, the moon, the nest of blankets I rest my body in. These blankets stay together, their stitches in place. They bring me comfort and stability by holding themselves together while I fall apart again and again on them. I never felt more distraught nor more safe than at night.

I slowly removed myself from the blankets, standing wobbly upright. In the bathroom stood my toothbrush, my toothpaste, and my bottle of pills. I shook one out and swallowed it dry. No need for water when I’ve been taking these things since I was 15. The bathroom tile felt cold to my forehead, and I couldn’t tell if I liked it or not. Sometimes it grounded me, pulled me here, back to my ever present life, and in other times it sent me spinning into space, floating and chilly. If only I knew how to choose.

I started the water for the shower, standing still as the water warmed up against my back. I was so tired, emotionally drained like never before. What was the point, really, if all I felt was this mind numbing exhaustion. It took all my effort to just feel things anymore. I had no drive, no energy, nothing left in my body to hold me up and keep me going. I was just floating through life, unable to center myself, unable to fix anything. I was so tired.

I slid down the wall, sitting curled up beneath the water. Wouldn’t it be better if I just stayed here, comfortable and quiet? I was nothing but a burden, someone who always had to be picked up after. I couldn’t do anything right, so what was the point in trying to? I might as well just be out of the way for those who know how to live their lives.  

The misery drowned me as much as the water did- enough to feel it in my lungs but not enough to follow through. There was no purpose anymore. I was just left hanging in the dust, suspended in space above the life I was given. The water was warm and soothing, easing my muscles and releasing me from my responsibilities. Maybe I could just stay forever, let myself rust and fall away down the drain, no more to exist in this mortal plane. 

In the distance, I could hear the customary 5:15 train go by, the bells ringing. My first alarm to get out of bed. I continued to sit in the shower, unmoving. I didn’t have the energy to wash my hair or face. Just to sit. I wish I could melt into the tile and never rise back up. The exhaustion I carried was deep in my bones, nothing a nap could fix. Chronic fatigue, I was told. Nothing I could fix. Not a hole in a blanket that I could sew, to keep the energy inside. Just a void. 

I was ready for eternal slumber. I held my necklace against my chest as the tears fell, mixing in with the hot water from the shower. Here, there was no concept of time, no concept of responsibilities. I just existed in agony. I pressed a palm against the wall of the tub, feeling it cool me off instead of the heat from my tears. I could hardly get a breath with the steam, and I didn’t care. Why shouldn’t I just pass out here, let the water run through my lungs and keep me down. I didn’t want to exist anymore. 

My 6:00 alarm went off. I dripped my way into my bedroom to turn it off, and went back to the shower. I needed to at least wash my hair before I got out. My arms felt like lead weights, but I made it through. I shut off the water and stepped into the cold bathroom. Goosebumps raised instantly but I didn’t care. I slowly pulled a shirt over my head, soaking it with the water I didn’t towel off. My pants got stuck part way up, my thighs too wet to slide. I shrugged on a hoodie, and left my room. Leaving felt strange, like abandoning a home. I didn’t like it.

I felt uncomfortable at my kitchen table, trying to choke down cereal before I left. I drank coffee instead of finishing the bowl. I put the dishes next to the pile, and told myself I’d do them tonight. I always told myself I’d do them later. I felt cold again, robotic. I tugged on my heart, hoping for it to give me something. Hope, or energy at least. I didn’t know if I would make it through the day. I never knew if I could make it through the day.