‹ Prequel: I Want To Make The World Dance
I'm a little bit lost without you.
;
I’m not sure when it stopped.
There were months of depression. The thoughts of suicide followed me everywhere. And they persisted. At first, a dull whisper. Then it felt like I couldn’t escape. They haunted me. They tracked me. And then I finally decided that they would get me.
I think that’s when the feeling stopped. I had given into the idea. It had seduced me and seduced me well. And as I got ready, I was almost deluded into believing I was a normal teenage girl.
I shaved my legs, I brushed my hair, I did my makeup.
The letter sat on my desk. It was crinkled and had crossings out all over the page. The draft.
As I pulled on my skinny jeans and Brandon’s jumper, I glimpsed the first few lines.
Brandy Snaps,
I’m a little bit lost without you.
Which seems a bit stupid that I’m writing this then.
Guilt slowly crowded my mind. I tried to force it away, stop the guilt. The guilt was more bearable than the thoughts.
It had taken quite a long time for me to decide to give in. But I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle feeling choked by an idea.
I knew it would hurt Brandon. Anything that upset me hurt him. And I wondered, fleetingly, why I had never told him.
I guess the letter was to do so much. The last chance for him to save me.
I sat on my bed and tied my shoes. I let myself believe I was getting ready to simply go see Brandon. I turned my music up full blast and danced around my room for a while.
I almost didn’t believe what I was about to do. But doing it would stop these thoughts. And, as I glanced back at the draft, Brandon might call. Might save me. And maybe a failed attempt would be enough to stop the ideas.
Staring at the rum glass, I tried to convince myself that it was just vodka. With a strange mix in it.
I looked at my phone once more and, shakily, downed the drink.
The feeling that spread through me was entirely foreign.
A slow paralysis spread through my body and I felt a jolt in my stomach. Bile tried to force itself up my throat.
It took me a while to realise I was lying on my back on the floor. I could see myself in my full length mirror. Vomit was on my face.
It struck me as odd that I couldn’t feel the vomit.
But then again, I couldn’t feel much anyway.
A faint knocking echoed through the house and in the depths of my panic, I felt panic.
My phone started ringing. Or my ears were ringing. I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t feel.
Next thing I knew, a girl’s voice was screaming. Or maybe it was my life flashing before my eyes. A face broke into my vision and hands rolled me onto my side.
The phone stopped ringing and voices started talking.
Everything was black.
Then it wasn’t.
Voices were shooting around the room. They were so hard to follow.
Bright lights moved around me. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
“I love you Brandy.” I tried to say. A terrified face filled up my vision. The face then burst into bright lights and I tried to giggle.
Why couldn’t I laugh?
There were months of depression. The thoughts of suicide followed me everywhere. And they persisted. At first, a dull whisper. Then it felt like I couldn’t escape. They haunted me. They tracked me. And then I finally decided that they would get me.
I think that’s when the feeling stopped. I had given into the idea. It had seduced me and seduced me well. And as I got ready, I was almost deluded into believing I was a normal teenage girl.
I shaved my legs, I brushed my hair, I did my makeup.
The letter sat on my desk. It was crinkled and had crossings out all over the page. The draft.
As I pulled on my skinny jeans and Brandon’s jumper, I glimpsed the first few lines.
Brandy Snaps,
I’m a little bit lost without you.
Which seems a bit stupid that I’m writing this then.
Guilt slowly crowded my mind. I tried to force it away, stop the guilt. The guilt was more bearable than the thoughts.
It had taken quite a long time for me to decide to give in. But I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle feeling choked by an idea.
I knew it would hurt Brandon. Anything that upset me hurt him. And I wondered, fleetingly, why I had never told him.
I guess the letter was to do so much. The last chance for him to save me.
I sat on my bed and tied my shoes. I let myself believe I was getting ready to simply go see Brandon. I turned my music up full blast and danced around my room for a while.
I almost didn’t believe what I was about to do. But doing it would stop these thoughts. And, as I glanced back at the draft, Brandon might call. Might save me. And maybe a failed attempt would be enough to stop the ideas.
Staring at the rum glass, I tried to convince myself that it was just vodka. With a strange mix in it.
I looked at my phone once more and, shakily, downed the drink.
The feeling that spread through me was entirely foreign.
A slow paralysis spread through my body and I felt a jolt in my stomach. Bile tried to force itself up my throat.
It took me a while to realise I was lying on my back on the floor. I could see myself in my full length mirror. Vomit was on my face.
It struck me as odd that I couldn’t feel the vomit.
But then again, I couldn’t feel much anyway.
A faint knocking echoed through the house and in the depths of my panic, I felt panic.
My phone started ringing. Or my ears were ringing. I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t feel.
Next thing I knew, a girl’s voice was screaming. Or maybe it was my life flashing before my eyes. A face broke into my vision and hands rolled me onto my side.
The phone stopped ringing and voices started talking.
Everything was black.
Then it wasn’t.
Voices were shooting around the room. They were so hard to follow.
Bright lights moved around me. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
“I love you Brandy.” I tried to say. A terrified face filled up my vision. The face then burst into bright lights and I tried to giggle.
Why couldn’t I laugh?