I remember one day in church I was listening to one of my favorite youth pastors. He was always one of the nicest guys around and always had a nice thing to say to someone. He was speaking on the state of the youth in the secular world and the dangers that could lead us away from the path of God, covering the typical things like drug use and premarital sex; the usual church stuff. Then he got to the part that I would always dread, talking about the LGBTQ+. As most Christians will tell you, there is always an issue with same-sex relationships in the Bible. They will point you towards the same scriptures and tell you the same thing about "Adam and Eve." Still, it would always leave me with a level of frustration and disappointment at the way they speak of an entire group. Needless to say, that pastor was no different in how he viewed things. He called gay people "an abomination against God" and that was how distasteful he found it. My anger only grew at his use of the f-word. After that word came out his mouth, I was done. I zoned out and didn't pay attention again until we left the building.
Exactly a week after my high school graduation I was rolling back and forth on the couch while cartoons played on the television at three in the morning. My whole body was shaking and my heart was racing like I had been slurping on half a pot of coffee half an hour before. While whispering to myself "You screwed up. You screwed up. You screwed up." over and over under the catchy theme song, I was hyperventilating to the point that I wished I could pass out just so the thumping in my chest would stop. What exactly was causing me to cry hysterically and wish for the sweet relief of sudden death, you may ask? The fact that legally I counted as an adult while having no idea what I was doing with my life.
I'm not always okay. There are times that I think about death. There are times where I want to die. There are times that I hate my existence. I realize that this might not be what people close to me want to hear. They would love to hear that I am doing great and my mental health couldn't be better; it makes my sad that I can't tell them this is so. I want to tell anyone right now that things don't get better right away and when they do get better, you aren't automatically fixed.
I thought that since it is the season of scary things that I would tell the story of the time I saw a ghost. I have tried to find a reasonable explanation for it but since I can't I figured that I figured I would share with you all.
In the shower I was lathering up with a smile on my face. The bubbles rose from the surface of the sponge and floated gently to the bathtub floor as I attempted to pop them. I was content from the warm steam surround me and what I felt to be the best decision of my life. I decided to finally kill myself that weekend. After years of self hatred and declining faith in my abilities to handle being a functional adult, I decided the best course of action was a bottle of hard liquor and whatever pills I could find in my parents' bedroom. It had been a long time coming but I suspected it would reach this point sooner or later. How did it start? Well, that is hard to say.
While traveling to my classes via ride sharing services; my driver brought up her opinions on the rappers of the current day. Like many people who grew up in the old school era of rap and R&B, she didn't understand the success of rappers like Lil Pump, DJ Khalid, or Lil Yachty. She wondered what about them made this new generation flock to them or why her little brother kept singing about a gang of Gucci.