Allira's Journey to the Dark Abyss and Back

The snow was falling outside. The glistening crystals were sticking to her dorm room windows. She could feel the draft coming in from the windows. The night was dreary, as dark and dreary as her life at the moment. She could feel another bought of depressed feelings crawling through the veins and bones within her body. She could feel them clawing at her hands, trying to pull her in as they had days before. She felt like her life was being flushed down the drain with the raw sewage, dead beta fish, and whatever else college students flushed down the toilets at Birmingham Tatum University.

She wanted to throw up. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw a fit and punch a wall, but she sat idly in her room hugging her plush frog and plush bear, whilst letting the tears drip, drip, drip from her eyes and down her reddened cheeks. Her music was blaring through her ear buds. Blaring Jimmy Eat World and All Time Low and The Killers. She wanted to drown herself in the music. She wanted to drench every little piece and part of her body with the lyrics. Music: the one thing she could always turn to, she could depend on to be there for her when she fell because her voice fell on deaf ears.

She thought she fit in, but she found out fairly quickly that she was wrong, dead wrong. She spent endless nights crying herself to sleep or at least falling asleep in a miserable mood because all she wanted to do was fit in and be with them, everyone at Birmingham Tatum. She usually ate lunch alone. She had few close friends, but they weren’t always around when she needed them most. When she called, they wouldn’t answer. When she talked, they wouldn’t listen. When she cracked a joke, they didn’t even laugh. All she wanted to do was make them laugh, smile, or just listen. She did all of that for them, but they would give nothing to her in return. Her depressed feelings that she constantly suppressed would burst through the doors, taking over her whole mind and soul.

She wanted to commit suicide. Oh, so many times had she wanted to commit suicide, but she couldn’t do. She failed at that, too, just like she felt she had at everything else. The bottle of pills sat in her desk next to her bed. Right there. She could even reach for them if she wished to. The pills were within reach. She could never fathom a hanging suicide death. She could never do that. She didn’t have the courage to tie the rope and put the noose around her neck. She thought about cutting her wrists so deep, too deep to bear. She thought of putting a razor to her throat. She did so one time but didn’t go through with it. She had been on that edge before, back at the end of her sophomore year in high school. She almost chugged a whole bottle of vicodin, sweet vicodin down her throat, but her guardian angels voice saved her. He was always watching over her, protecting her. She had known him before he was her guardian angel, at least she believed him to be one her guardian angels.

11:16; 1116; 1,116; 11.66; 1.116; 11/16: her birth date. The sign her guardian angel always gave her to remind her that he was always there. He proved that to her several times. She’d seen his apparition a few times before. He kept watch over her and never, for even a moment, letting her out of his site. She was his pride and joy, the reason he got up in the morning, his angel, his only granddaughter, grandchild even. She believed her grandmother was up there with him, too. She believed that her grandmother was her guardian angel, too. Her other departed grandparents, she believed, were up there, also, giving her the strength to go on. Her departed grandparents gave her the strength to go on. Her grampy told her on that frightful night, “Don’t do it. Put it back. You have so much more left to live for. I love you.” She had heard it as clear as day. And when she sat in the fetal position on her bedroom floor, he told her, “Get help now.” She did. He was one of her saviors. She loved him and all her guardian angels.

As she sat on her slightly uncomfortable dorm bed, she imagined how life would be if she had been a normal person without all these issues. Would that boy have dated me if I wasn’t messed up and ugly? Would I have more friends if I wasn’t like this? Would I have actually been asked to prom or harvest ball? Would anyone actually care about me and love me and talk to me? Her spirits dove deeper into the Dark Abyss of despair. They were being eaten whole by depressed thoughts, being absolutely obliterated. That jar of good things, in her mind, was smashed into little tiny crystal pebbles and slices. Her grip on her faith was starting to weaken and wane. She just wanted to slug down a beer or a glass of vodka on the rocks. It would dampen her fears and thoughts, make them retreat if only for a little while.

Just a few days ago, she noticed her extreme frustration. She had awoke from a nap and realized that she was biting the inside of her cheek so solidly that she broke skin and almost bit through. The cheek cells were still healing, she observed as she lolled her tongue around her mouth. She examined every nook and cranny of the flesh and teeth inside her mouth. What else could she do? She started feeling sick to her stomach. She couldn’t control how what she was feeling affected in her body anymore. It had taken over a long time ago. Its reign has yet to end. It like a virus that goes to sleep for a few days after being treated but comes back with a vengeance to show that it’s still up for a fight and very much real and alive.

She thought about what she’d miss if she let it completely take over. She would just be a shell of herself. There would be no more her. The virus would run her body, destroying every little thing in its path. Would her bamboo plant and cactus be taken care of if it were just her shell there? Would any food cooked? Would any cookies be baked? Would any laughs be shared over a meal if she wasn’t truly there? Would the Bruins still have their number one fan if her soul and spirit and faith disappeared? Would her favorite little whole-in-the-wall restaurant still have their number one customer? Would her few friends and her family miss her if only her shell was existing?

Would anyone truly care?
Would life go on without her truly around?
Would she still fail chemistry if she merely existed?
Would her professors notice?
Would her friends notice?
Would her cats notice?
Would her family even recognize it?
Who or what would?

Her roommates were in the other bedroom of their dorm suite. She was all alone, like she usually was. She just needed a hug, a caring touch on the shoulder or back, or even just a shoulder to rest her head or cry on. She just needed somebody, but her suite mates would never know that. She rarely told anyone how she was feeling. She held it in. She had done so much for them today. The least they could do is hang out with her, but she knew that it would never happen. They couldn’t give two shits about her, about how she felt, about her humor, about her favorite movies or TV shows. She was alone even when she was surrounded by people. That’s how she usually felt. “I feel as if I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one even looks up,” Rose had said in the movie Titanic. She felt exactly like that. Her depressed feelings didn’t help her cause.

She saw a school counseling every week or every other week sometimes. She didn’t really have the guts to tell her about her depressed feelings. She didn’t want to get sent to the loony bin. She didn’t need to go there. She just needed someone. She needed someone who cares. Although she did get a lot of things out at counseling services, she just never got everything out. Her depressed feelings never ravaged her before a meeting. She didn’t have the courage to talk about them anyways. Not many people understood her feelings, so it was only a defense mechanism to not talk about them. She did not want to appear weak or frail in front of her professors and classmates. She could not handle that shame and humiliation.

Everything was being construed by her messed up mind. How did her mind become like this? Well, if she looked deep enough into the depths of the abyss, she could see all the pain of social rejection she suffered throughout her whole childhood. She could see the verbal abuse she withstood. She was so strong at such a young age. She had to grow up way too quickly. She didn’t have many friends as a young child. She was always the ugly, fat duckling. Even poachers would reject her for game season. She would hide in herself, creating thoughts in her mind of a better life. She thought of lives where she was rich, lives where she was beautiful, lives where she was talented, lives where she was popular, lives where people actually cared about her. That deep Dark Abyss threw memories back at her with no care in the world. They cut her up inside and left her raw. The tears streamed from her eyes.

“Allira,” a voice whispers from the Dark Abyss, “come join us.” She shakes her head with a vigorous NO. “Allira, this is where you belong,” the voice whispered again, “you belong with us.” “Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira, Allira…” “STOP!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Allira,” she jumped as she heard her name but now from the bedroom door. She broke down crying. The boy, her close friend, timidly walked towards her. “Allira, come here. It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re protected. It’s okay now,” he said as he climbed onto her bed and embraced her in a warm, protective hug. He repeated that last sentence over and over until she fell asleep. He lay with her all night, making sure she wouldn’t leave, because dawn brings new light, dawn brings hope.