Hi Mom

*suicidal thoughts trigger warning

On nights like tonight, I am tired. The obsessive-compulsive behavior has kept me occupied for weeks, maybe even a month: avoiding. Now, at 2:27 a.m., I am ready to give in, almost. I sink into the couch, allowing the gray of its fabric to swallow me whole. My coloring page is still open, unfinished, like most of my daily tasks. I lunge for it, another crutch. I stop myself. I can't always run.

The couch is warm compared to the cold breeze entering my open windows. I sway like a metronome, between the hot and cold, hypnotizing myself with the ticks of my wall clock. I feel her enter. She is always there, but with my defenses down, she's able to come in. Warm light swirls into my bones and she fills the hole in my chest that she left when she died.

Hi mom.

The words never seem to reach her, but my emotions always do. I can feel the pressure inside of myself as her spirit hugs my heart. I convalesce, and clutch myself, to hold her inside.

I miss you.

The thought seems so simple but it strikes the right nerve.

I'm so sorry I can't get myself together. I just feel so sick all the time. It is hard when you don't feel good.

The pit in my stomach lets me know she is still there. I run my fingers through my hair, wishing they were hers instead.

I get it now, all of the times you'd say you didn't feel good. It just hurts so bad.

My heart threatens to burst as my body connects to her own spirit's earthly experiences.

I don't know what to do. Every option seems so scary. What if nothing I try works?

My jaw subconsciously tightens and the wrinkles on my forehead burn with the pain of my worry lines and my injury.

I want to die.

Shoved down for weeks, buried beneath my incessant chattering, and mind-numbing coloring, the thought has finally managed to rise to the surface. The words don't hurt with her here. She knows what I mean.

I know. I know you know. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It's just, how am I supposed to want to live like this? I can't get anything done without feeling so sick. I just want to get better.

I close my eyes and my throat tightens. The longing for the return of my health and vivaciousness is absorbed by her. Her spirit takes on feelings she knew all to well. This allows space for me to breathe in new air. I then exhale, perhaps for the first time since our conversation began.

I know there are a couple of things I can try but the risks are so high. I just can't bring myself do them.

"Why not?" I wish she could ask.

Because, I'm scared that they'll fail and then I'll have nothing. All I have is hope.

The sorrow on my face is reflected in my imagination of hers. I can see the love and hurt in her eyes mixed with the disappointment that I've let myself be bested by the pain.

I know. I have to try. Its just so hard to know what to do. Going down a path of uncertainty...

I feel the cold creeping back into my bones as my brain begins its ramblings again. I imagine her pushing my hair behind my ear as she dissipates, taking the anguish with her. Like a genie being released from its lamp, she escapes into the ether once more, leaving remnants of her star dust twinkling in my soul. I hear the clock ticking once more.

~~~~

The viewpoint of the story is not in alignment with my actual life. Thanks for reading.