Breathe

A pretty brief story I wrote after a friend of mine commit suicide. The story itself is fictitious, but for some reason it helped me understand what I was feeling at the time.

She inhaled deeply and felt the familiar buzz in her brain and the release of tension in her muscles. She exhaled. She watched the silver smoke puff into a gray cloud. She handed it to the next person and let her eyelids drop. She leaned back, and let herself feel it all. She felt what remained of the heat from the day's hot sun and the soft, warm breeze the night provided to cool the warmed world. 

She felt the world's pain slipping away from her, saying, "Don't worry about it right now." But she did. She always did. Their tears, their anger, their pain, their immense sorrow - it was all hers. She told herself that by feeling their pain, she took some of it away from them. That's why she blamed herself for what happened to Aaron. She hadn't felt his pain. She wasn't able to alleviate it. So a bullet did it instead.

She shook her head. She didn't want to feel anymore. So, she took another hit and another drink. It silenced her brain in a way that made her body feel sick. She got frustrated. She wanted to focus on the moon - land herself on it and leave the world behind. She stood up and her legs rejected the sudden dependence on them. She grasped a nearby shoulder and heard someone laugh at the vulnerability, the codependency she'd forced upon herself. 

The pressure of the water enveloped her body. Her red eyes burned from the chlorine, but not enough for her to care. She understood she needed oxygen, but her limbs didn't; they wanted to stay at the bottom of the pool. They didn't want to be dry. The cool water felt so good. Her lungs scolded her for her indifference. She closed her eyes. She let the pain drift away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why did you jump in the pool?" someone was yelling at her. They sounded angry, but she heard a the alcohol and the drugs laugh.

She opened her eyes, staring at the person like he'd asking something stupid. The air was drying her body, sucking away the moisture in a way that made her feel trapped. Every inch of her was tingling and her throat burned like she'd taken seven consecutive shots of whiskey. 

"I was waking up," she said simply.