Falling

It’s like frolicking in a field of sunflowers. Like the fresh April rain. It’s pure bliss, clear happiness. The feeling of overpowering joy washes over me, like nothing can stop me. I watch the days go by with a smile on my face. I don’t think a second thought about anything I do. I carelessly do what I want, not worried about the consequences. The acts of the child I am. 

I play around with my family and friends, not a worry in the world. I don’t yet know of what lurks behind the corner. Day after day, year after year. I’m happy. I have friends, imagination, dreams. 

Slowly, as I grow older, the happiness begins to fade. My friends leave, my imagination slips away, and my dreams are lost in a vast expanse of sorrow. I’ve forgotten what it felt like. Now, all I feel is the overgrown grass brushing against my legs. All I feel is the heavy rain, beating me, forcing me down. The words it says, the derogatory sentences. It feeds me thoughts of dread and worry. 

I am no longer able to feel. Everything is numb. I don’t remember the last time I talked to anyone. Those memories of my happy childhood hidden beneath the webs of lies I tell. “I’m fine,” I say every day. No one second guesses it. 

I am fine, aren't I? I can still feel, can’t I? I am still alive, right ...right?

Before I know it, I stand in a hole. A black abyss of nothingness. The only thing that accompanies me is the faint, unintelligible whispers. I listen closely to the familiar voices, trying to discern what they are. 

Leaning in, trying to hear, I fall. I fall further into the pit. I look down, trying to see an end. No matter how hard I try, I can’t see. It’s just me falling into this pit, followed by those whispers. As I’m falling, one set of voices comes clear. It sounds like my dad and me. It must be a memory. My father cheers me on, saying I can do it. An image arrears, I’m seeing the memory again. I’m riding my bike without training wheels, my dad behind me holding on so I don’t fall. I keep going, only looking forward. Before I know it, my dad lets go without me knowing. I ride on my own, an accomplished feeling swelling in me. 

Another memory comes, one of me at my first orchestra concert. I’m on the stage filled with confidence. The conductor lifts her arms and we start playing the medley. I can see my family in the crowd. Again, that accomplished feeling warms my soul. I’m proud of myself, I did something amazing, something I love. After the concert my family congratulates me with big smiles and hugs. I’m happy there, too.

That memory fades away into the abyss as I’m still falling. A different one appears before me, this one isn't as happy. My two siblings, my parents, and I all sit in their room. My dad shares some not so great news. “We have to move,” he says. I had always dreamed of moving, but now that it was happening I didn’t want it. I cried and cried, dreading leaving my friends. 

A new memory replaces that one. I’m at my new house, we have lived there for about a year. I’m sitting alone in my room at night. I stare out my window, looking at the stars. No matter what, they always shine. They keep shining, night after night. I wish I could be like them. I turn from my window to open my desk drawer, picking up a knife that’s inside.

Before that memory could finish, it cut off. The air hits me as I still ascend into the never ending pit. I’m alone now, no whispers to accompany me. I try to call out, but no one answers, not even a sound comes out of my mouth. I reach up toward where I think the top is. A dull light appears, my hand facing it but unable to reach it. From the light I hear someone calling. It gets louder, making me recognize my mother’s voice. She’s desperately calling my name, I feel her hands on me. While her cries are above me, I stop falling. I quickly get up and try to climb. I climb and climb, feeling like hours in just a matter of seconds. Steadily reaching the top of the pit, the light growing, my mothers pleas grew louder. I start to hear my dad as well; it sounds like he’s calling someone. I try speaking to them, telling them I’m coming, but no words escape my mouth.

I’m almost to the top, about to place my hand down and pull myself over the edge. I’m so close. I can now feel my mother’s tears hit my face. Why is she sad? I’m almost there, I’m so close, I can see them so clearly. I’m now able to hear their voices better. Listening to who my dad is calling, I remember something- why I’m in here. 

I stop climbing, thinking back. I was in the kitchen making myself dinner. All my siblings had moved out so it was only my parents and I living there, but they were out. While cutting something, before I know it, I had cut myself. 

Why did I do that? Wasn’t I happy? Am I dying? I don’t want to die yet. I still have so much left to do! 

Trying to scream, I begin to climb up once again. I reach my hand up, but it slips. I reach again, but it still slips. Suddenly, I fall back down. I try to pull myself back up, desperate to live, but I can’t. I cry out, trying to say I’m sorry. I try to tell my mom that I love her and I didn’t mean to, but I still can’t speak. 

The abyss calls my name. It’s gentle hands reach for me, caressing me. I try to get out, but I can’t. Accepting defeat, I lay in its hands. The darkness cradles me like my mother does just outside my reach. I watch as my parents lean over my body, telling me to survive. I notice the door burst open and paramedics enter. Everything goes silent. I watch as they tell my parents something, making my mom cry even more and my dad comfort her. 

I didn’t mean to do this. I didn’t mean to. Still in the void's cold hands, I cry. I think back on my life, wondering where it all went wrong. Wondering where my dreams went, where my friends went, where my imagination went. Wondering where my happiness went. 

Just as my hearing, my sight went. My parents fade into the black. I feel nothing once again.