i can't remember much of the past three years

A Guest in St. Francis

I arrived a little past midnight. My coordination was shot, my mouth was dry, my neck was buried in between my shoulders, and my mind was light years away. My eyes were stuck to the floor and I refused to speak. All I wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up in my room, in my house and with the feeling that everything was all a dream. Instead, here I was; nodding yes and shrugging "I don't know" to every question I was asked.

I don't remember enough to give a vivid description of the man that was asking me what I took and why I took them and how many I had taken, but I can tell you that he seemed genuinely concerned about my being there.

"Jesus, look at her arm. Take a picture." He acted as if these chicken scratches were the worst he had ever seen.

As he gave me pamphlets to read and worksheets to sign, his voice became distant. I became focused on the sea of white that surrounded me. The doors, walls, tables, tiles, everything reeked with the color. I hated it.

"Stand up and let's get a picture." I looked at him with discomfort. "It's for our records." I never saw the picture, but I smiled. I don't know why I did either. There was nothing to smile about, really. I made an idiot out of myself in front of so many people and I was humiliated. I was ashamed. I didn't try hard enough.

I picked up the pile of papers and pamphlets and wobbled towards my room. This was the first night in a long time I slept comfortably. I didn't think at all, I just slept.

I woke up the next day with a sense of loss. I didn't get out of my assigned bed and I didn't eat anything. I felt like throwing up and the idea of shoving food down my mouth forced me to curl up into a ball. I guess another reason why I didn't leave my room was because I was scared I was going to be asked why I was there. I didn't want anyone to know what I had done and I didn't want to talk to anyone because I knew that whatever urged me to do what I did wasn't that big of a deal. I felt like the new kid in school and plus, I looked horrible. My hair was fading from a lavish blue to puke green, it was messy and long. My lips were purple with blue hues, my face was extremely pale and my eyes were empty.

I don't know what else to say.

Everything is so clear.

When did everyone become blind?

Okay.

I don't know what I'm feeling or why. What I do know is that I'm weak. I am weak.

I deserve death

sharp

i

have sought refuge in the night

dark, painless

effortless

i'll paint the walls with red tonight

It has been a month since I last tried to overdose on my medication. What pains me now is that I still feel like dying. I don't know how to explain myself. I just want to disappear.

God, if you're out there, please understand that what I have been planning has nothing to do with wanting to teach anyone a lesson. I am not trying to stir up anything or make people think that I'm out for attention, sympathy, or pity. I have been spared far greater emotions and I don't need to see them now. You've seen me struggle day in and day out so whatever it is that has been brewing in my mind should come as no surprise.

The disease that has been eating away at me has broken down the wall of hopes and dreams that once kept me together and there is such little time left to try and fix it. I have slaved myself with distractions that have now become my worst enemies. It's like this all the time and I have yet to see anything that has any glimmer of change. I am a firm believer in the idea that in order for things to go your way, you ought to fight for them because things don't just happen. I have drowned myself in optimism for what seems like a lifetime. The rewards have been scarce and the victory has become futile.

There are a few things I have kept from the people who know me and those things will never see the light. I have lost so many battles and I am sure it is time for me to stop trying to work towards a rematch. I've nowhere to stand.

People have told me that there is a plan for everyone and that it's up to us to find it. What they don't realize is that there are some people who never really had a fair shot at a future. Some people are just not meant for this. I have been reassured numerous times that I am one of those people. There are so many things picking at my seams.

There is no point in trying to deny the voices inside my head. They have been there from the beginning and neglecting their words of wisdom would be cruel.

God, give me the courage I need to make my promises a reality. You know where to find me.

Sincerely,

Leslie