Waking up means second chance. Waking up means you have another day with life, another day to do the same mistake or right the mistake you’ve done the last day. That is why I hate it so much. To me, waking up means another day full of pain and sufferings, another day that I have no control over everything.
I hate it so much and every night I pray to God, to the Heavens above for me to sleep eternally.
I stare at the ceiling of my room, my hands are still tied to the bed and the nurses are keeping their eye out on me, waiting for the next meltdown. They are all waiting.
I too am waiting. The only difference is that I’m waiting for death to resurface again. For the fifth time, death has failed to do its job to take me. Damn death. Damn everyone else who wouldn’t let me die, who wouldn’t want my sufferings to end.
I feel the hot burning in my eyes and I swallow to keep them from falling, tears won’t do anything anymore. They just do damage just like always.
I wish they had let me die, I wish they had let the damn machine to go off. Because I can’t live like this anymore. I don’t want to live anymore.
My eyes get blurry and I remember the day when everything in me just broke.
My throat hurt—no my whole body hurt—I looked around the room, was this the other side? Why did it look like a hospital room? And why did my body ached all over again? I thought, you didn’t feel anything when you died?
So why was I feeling everything?
I heard voices just outside the room, maybe I could stand up and walk around, maybe I’d find Louie. Where was he exactly? Didn’t he say he would wait for me on the other side? So why wasn’t he here?
Then the door opened and I knew then. I didn’t die. Kim’s face was the evidence of it all and I hated it so much.
“GET OUT!” I yelled. I didn’t know why I was yelling, maybe because I was alive! “Get out!” I repeated over and over again.
Kim hesitantly ran toward me and tried to soothe me, I shove his hand away. “Mary, take it easy. You’re still recovering.”
I shook my head, looked at him with tears desperately falling. “Why? Why did you let me live?”
He looked ashen. “Mary. Please.” He pleaded, now he looked scared and I didn’t understand why.
“I trusted you to make the right decision. I told you in my letter that I want to die. Why? Why can’t you let me die?”
“Because I love you!”Kim snapped. “I can’t give up the way you did. One of us should still fight! So I fought for you!”
I shook my head, everything hurt. Not just my body anymore but also everything inside me. “Then you’re the selfish one.” I told him. I looked at him only to see shock and hurt in his eyes. “If you truly thought of me then you would have let me die. You were only thinking of yourself because if you thought of me, you’d understand why I didn’t want to live.” I cried.
He didn’t say anything, he just looked at me with pain and I knew he wanted to say something, he just didn’t know what else to say. How to rebuff what I just told him because he knew I was right.
He was selfish. All of them were.
Then I just broke down. I didn’t know what happened, I just did. I cried and screamed. Hating the world, hating them all. Until my mom got enough or the doctors did.
They scheduled me for a psychiatric evaluation. The whole dam broke the moment mom told me about it.
“I’m not crazy!”
Mom didn’t look at me. She stared at the window then spoke lightly. “I’m not saying you are. You’ve been under a lot of stress and we just want you to be okay.”
“No, you just don’t want to admit that everything you pretended to be okay is not okay. You want to make sure I’m not psychotic because then you’d regret not washing your hands off me a long time ago.”
Mom then turned her head at me, looking at me wide eyed. She was surprised with the words I just said because this would be the first time I lashed out on her with the past. Then her composure regained, she glared at me. “Stop rehashing the past. You’re okay. You’re not some psycho.”
I wanted to ask her, who was she convincing, herself or me. I knew the answer though, she was convincing herself because if she admitted that I wasn’t okay then she’d think they made a mistake a long time ago.
I let the tears fall as I remembered the five year old me. The miserable little girl and I compared that girl to the girl I was now. I knew then they’d made a mistake just like how they made a mistake now for letting me live. “You should have let me die mom. I begged you in my letter to let me die. Do you truly hate me that much that the one request I have for you, you didn’t even care to fulfill?” I cried as I looked at her with so much pain in my eyes. “Why can’t you just let me die in peace? Why do you have to torture me?”
She looked at me the way she used to look at me when I was a child. She was scared of me again and she thought of me as crazy. “That’s ridiculous. Why do you want to die when you have a full life ahead of you?” she stared back at the window then sighed. “You’re alive and you’re okay.” She said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She walked out of my room without a second glance.
“I’m not okay.” I murmured.
She never came back the next day or the next.
The door opens and Dr. Collins barges in. She looks at me then at my hands. She gives me a tight smile then proceeds toward me, she frees my hand and I give her a grateful smile.
She sits down at the chair beside my bed and looks at me. “You’re not okay.” She states.
I nod. Because it’s the truth. I’m not okay. Which is why they had to restrain me last night, I had a nightmare last night, and it was just some old nightmare from my childhood days starring Dr. Frank.
One of my least favorite people who always showed up to my nightmares.
“And you don’t want to be okay.”
I nod again; I don’t want to be okay, what’s the use of being okay when everything is messed up? When all I want is to die?
“Ian is beside himself with worry. You won’t let him in. He’s hurting Mary.” Dr. Collins tells me, I don’t say anything, I know she wants me too. She sighs. “I know you’re hurting too Mary but you just can’t shut everyone out. You can be angry at the world, at everyone; just don’t keep it bottled up.”
I shrug, I can shut everyone out if that’s what I want. I don’t need them. I don’t need them, they’re all selfish. This is their entire fault, it’s their fault why I am hurting still. It’s their fault back then and it’s still is their fault now.
Everything is their fault. Every fucked up in my life is their fault—my family’s fault—and I don't know how to pretend that it’s not anymore.
“Talk to me Mary.”
But I don’t. I know why she’s here, I stopped from talking a week ago and they thought if they bring Dr. Collins here, I’d talk to her.
I don’t know why I stopped talking really. I just found myself one day being tired of speaking, they won’t hear me so why bother speaking again? I told myself it was just for a day but then it turned days.
It’s easier this way. This way, I won’t get disappointed that no one hears me.