Jade On My Mind

Many key events determine who we become. I recently had such an event, but to grasp the full weight of this tale we must go back seventeen years ago. The year I moved to Tennessee, the year I learned about love as the most basic concept, and what mental illness truly was.

In the summer of 2004, my family decided to move to a small town in Michigan. We were going to live with my mother’s friend and the friend’s family. For a clearer idea, my family was made up of my father, my mother, my older sister, my older brother, and myself. My mother’s friend had a family just as large: two parents and three children. With so many people under one roof, tensions flared. That winter, my family and I returned to Illinois to visit our extended family. Our trip was unwillingly extended. My mother’s friend understandably concluded that all of us under one roof was not a good idea.

With no place to return to in Michigan, my father decided we were to head to Tennessee. We had relatives living there and we were able to find a house rather quickly. We only stayed with my cousins for a month or so. The true story doesn’t start until the day I was enrolled in 4th grade at the local elementary school. I made a few friends rather quickly, so my parents had no reason to worry. I began seeing things around this time. Dark figures out of the corners of my eyes, fully three-dimensional shadows moving about like they were ordinary people, but it was wrong. They had no features to them. To stare at them was to stare into an abyss. One could go mad doing so, although one must be mad to see such figures. There were also voices, or at least whisperings when they started. It wasn’t until much later that I could understand what they were saying. Maybe it was the stress of relocating twice in a year, or maybe it was just predetermined for me to be this way.

This is the part of the story where I meet the girl of my dreams. For privacy purposes, I will call her Jade. I was never as happy as I was when I was around her. Her beautiful blonde hair flowed down her back, and she had these blue-grey eyes that could pierce my soul. We quickly became friends. Summer came and went. We didn’t see much of each other until school started back in the fall. We were always so excited when we were in a class together. She brought out the best in me, and I like to think I did the same for her. We only grew closer through 5th grade.

By the time 6th grade dances kicked off, I had worked up the courage to ask her out. To my surprise, she said yes! It was one of the happiest days of my life. Unfortunately, the relationship was very short-lived. We dated for a school week. I asked her out on a Monday, and we ended the relationship the very next Monday. It was entirely my fault. It was about that time the voices got worse.

Throughout the day they were just whispers, but at night it was relentless barrages of derogatory insults thrown at me from the dark as I cried myself to sleep. They got the best of me, as they would any eleven-year-old. I was too terrified of making a mistake with Jade, that I didn’t talk to her that entire week. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. What if I had said something stupid or accidentally insulted her in some way? The worst thought I had was the idea that she would simply find me boring after getting to know me better.

It was the obvious thing to do, breaking up with me. I was hurt more than I should have been. It was a non-relationship that barely lasted the week, but it was enough to feed the insecurities I developed. Thankfully, she still wanted to be friends. We talked in the classes we were in together, and we traded notes between classes. I put all my emotion into the relationship she and I shared. It took me months to work up the courage to ask anyone else out. She seemed to always be in a relationship, which I can’t blame those who yearned to be with her. I held onto the idea that one day we would try again.

Throughout the remainder of middle school, I would write poetry for her and slip it into her locker. I was desperate for a romantic connection with her, but I agreed to be platonic. Looking back, I see where my actions were problematic. I never hid the fact that I loved her. Or at least I didn’t think I did. Once we made it to high school, we seemed to separate a bit physically, but we were always there for each other. We would text whenever we felt overwhelmed or just wanted to check-in. I believe it was my sophomore year of high school when I came clean with all my friends and told them about my mental illness. Jade accepted me as I was, disorders and all.

The kind of relationship Jade and I had was amazing. We were in marching band together, we did a play or two together, and we graduated together. We even decided to go to the same college. We saw each other during freshman orientation. She introduced me to another freshman who ended up becoming my girlfriend later that month. Jade and I were great friends. Around 1:00 am on the night of orientation, I got a call from her, and she was panicked. She went out with some new friends and tried pot for the first time. She was having a bad trip and instead of helping her, these new friends dropped her off outside her dorm. She called me when she realized she didn’t have her keys with her. I was staying off-campus at the time, so I got in my car and picked her up.

I brought her back to where I was staying and had her get some sleep. Before she lied down, she seemed hesitant. Looking back, I think she wanted to tell me how she felt, but I must’ve seemed distant. She was thankful for what I did for her. After that day, we didn’t see much of each other for a while. We both dropped out of the university. Jade didn’t believe she could go through college, perhaps it was a financial issue, maybe it was simply self-confidence. I dropped out due to my mental health. She was working at a gas station, and I was working in a factory. We saw each other every now and again when she was working. I would go out of my way to fuel up at that specific gas station. This went on for months until I noticed that she was never there anymore.

It turned out that she moved away with her latest boyfriend. It took me some time, but I made peace with the fact that she was happy with someone else. That’s what truly matters, right? It wasn’t until about a year and a half later that I received a message from her. She was reaching out because she hadn’t heard from me in so long. I was overjoyed when I got the message. Even more overjoyed when she told me that she had feelings for me. Jade and I decided to try a long-distance relationship, and for about a year it was the happiest time of my life.

We had some trouble spots as most relationships tend to have. She was still living with her ex-boyfriend, and I couldn’t contact her as freely as I wanted to. She hid the fact that we were dating from everyone as far as I knew, but that didn’t bother me. Jade never seemed to be afraid of anything, but she was smart. She knew how to pick her battles. It was simpler for me to be her little secret than it was for her to find a new place to live.

That year was splendid. The only thing I could’ve wished for was for her to be back in the same town as me. That was a major argument point we had. She didn’t want to come back to this little nowhere town, and I didn’t blame her. I was saving up to go there when we lost contact. We simply stopped messaging the day after St. Patrick’s Day. Maybe it was something I said, maybe it was something I had done. Whatever the case, I was torn up about it. So much so, I lost my job, I stopped taking my meds, and I was contemplating some terrible thoughts.

Years passed and time healed the deep wounds left in my heart, or so I thought. I still thought about her on her birthday and on the day after St. Patrick’s Day. I cried myself to sleep over that loss for so long. She was out of my life.

Earlier this year, I woke up one day to discover she had died in a dreadful car accident. She was back in Tennessee. She was back and said nothing to anyone. She left all of us behind and moved on with her life. We lost not only her but her unborn child. The following months held nothing for me. I was numb. I simply floated through daily life, not shedding a tear.

Perhaps it was the shock, but maybe it was because I no longer knew her. I fell for her again and again, every day that we talked. I finally cried months later, but I know myself now. It isn’t over, not by a long shot. My illness, my disease will remind me relentlessly of the missed opportunities I had with her. Every mistake I made burned into my brain from the constant mockery. It will take me to dark places, but I will overcome. Thankfully, I had friends I could lean on, which is why I’m still here today, and why I’ll succeed until my time to see those angelic blue-grey eyes again.