Before I Forget

My head’s screaming. I open the pot and intend to shake one candy pink pill into my hand. Four accidentally spill into my palm. I stare with the pot poised above my hand. I rattle the pot again. More pills. Rattle. Pills. Rattle. Pills. I now have over twenty pills in my hand. Take them. I remember being a child and stuffing my little fists with Smarties. Take them. I can’t remember the last time I ate that much. And kept it down. You call. We have to leave. I quickly empty my palm and refill the pot. What would you say if you knew? If you could hear the thoughts that were infecting my mind within those few seconds? The slam of the car door seems to crack my skull. I should have taken a pill. We drive. “Are you alright?” We drive fast. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I wonder how fast the car would have to be going- “Are you sure?” –for me to die if I threw myself from it. “Yes, why?” Crack my skull on the road and paint the kerb with my blood. “I dunno, you just seem a little down lately” Modern art for the depressed. “I’m fine.” What would you say if you knew? We park outside. I stay in the car. You won’t be long. Again, the car door slams. Crack. I’m left in silence as rain drums lightly on the glass. The headphones swell in my ears and pound words against my eardrums. If only you knew how well I could relate to those words. I glance up through the rain-dented windscreen as a train rumbles past in a streak of colour. I picture myself perched eagerly on the edge of the platform, pulse screaming as the rails rattle and the train speeds closer. I wonder if anyone would notice as I take one last breath, close my eyes and throw myself mercilessly from the platform in one last attempt to fly away from here. The taste of metal hits the back of my throat as the screech of brakes and onlookers swamp me as my body hits the front of the train in one packed punch. Crack. I’m flung back into the front seat of the car. “You alright?” I turn and look you in the eye.

What would you say if you knew?