Little Me
Little Me
I never meant to feel like this.
When you’re someone like me, you never mean to feel anything, really.
I hate seeing the look on my mother’s face when she leaves for work and is all but forced to let me stay home because I won’t get out of my bed. I don’t know that’s she’s disappointed - actually, I know she’s not disappointed, she’s just a little sad that I don’t feel like putting the effort forth to get out of bed and take on the world.
The only way to beat something like depression and anxiety is to fight; it’s just nearly impossible to fight something you can’t touch. The intangibility of depression is what makes it so lethal.
It’s hard to fight something you can’t hit.
Another day in bed meant another day without school; another step away from high school graduation, another step away from college graduation.
I can’t afford more days in bed - I want to - but I can’t.
But laying here, in my bed, makes me forget that I can’t afford more.
The side of my bed indents and I want to groan, but don’t make a sound.
I’d heard Mom leave, so why was she back again?
“Jenna?”
But that wasn’t my mother’s voice.
“Jenna, come on, kid, get up.”
I turned around, completely terrified at the foreignly familiar voice.
“Calm down, it’s just me.”
“Me? I don’t know you.”
“You do. Now, what are you doing in bed? Renee’s at school and she’s probably waiting for her best friend to walk into German.”
“I’m sleeping.” I turned over, but she didn’t stop me.
“Okay, okay...but why?”
“I don’t feel good.”
“Is that what you told Mom?”
“Who are you?”
“You need to get out of bed,” She stood up - completely ignoring my question - and went over to my dresser. “You still keep your leggings in the pajama drawer, right?”
“Who are you!?” I sat up, turning to her.
“Jenna, get up.”
“No. Not until you tell me who you are!”
“I’m you.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I’m you. Except, I graduated high school, college, and I work at the CONSOL…” She looked down at her wrist, to an imaginary watch. “Which I need to get to, like, soon. So get up, come on.”
“You’re batshit.”
She smirked. “That’s still up for debate.”
My blood froze in my veins.
“You need to get dressed. And call Mom.”
“Why?”
“Cause you’re going to school.”
“No I’m not. I’m going to sleep.” She sighed and set the pair of yoga pants back in my drawer.
“Jenna, do you want to know something?”
“What you’re doing in my room, you freak.”
“Okay.” She came over and sat on my bed again.
“You’re seventeen...it’s hard to listen to people still. But you need to listen to me. You know how you hate yourself? Somedays it’s like: why the hell am I still here?”
I nodded slowly, shifting back on my bed.
“Well, you remember Skylar?” I scoffed. “Alright, alright. Shut up and listen.” I glared at her, causing her to roll her eyes. “You know she thinks the same thing all the time?”
“I kinda figured.” I said.
“You’re scared that people talk about you, you have this sense of paranoia about school and you wish you could just sit in your bed all day long with a laptop on your lap and Netflix streaming.”
“And?”
“Stop it. People don’t talk about you anymore than they talk about their love for the NHL.”
“A lot of people-”
“Jenna, you’re beautiful. You don’t know it yet - well, you will after I tell you - but guys in college?” I nodded. “They’re going to fall over themselves trying to befriend you. And don’t laugh at me either, I’m telling you the truth. The funny thing is, you’re so oblivious to flirting that you won’t realize it. You’re some guys’ dream. You wear a hockey jersey to bed, for God’s Sake.” I chuckled.
“You are going to be happy after high school. You might be afraid now, that college is going to be hard because of depression, but it’s not. Your roommate - Chris - she’s so understanding. She’s just like Mom. She pushes you to get up everyday, even risking being late to class to make sure you get up, eat, and go to class.”
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you. Believe me when I tell you: you will become everything you ever dreamed of. Life is going to get good, you just gotta get through the loops first.”
“I know.”
“Rockin’ Rollercoaster?” She smiled. “It’s crazy, it’s upside down, and you might cry, but it’s going to end eventually. It has to end. You’re going to walk off that ride, maybe crying, but you’re going to walk off it.” She stood up again and went to my dresser, tossing me a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt.
“Get dressed.” She smiled. “I’ll drive you to school.” She left my room.
I got dressed, taking my time, but I did. I pulled on my BRASH boots and picked up my bookbag and binder.
“Taking your time, I see?” I smiled crookedly. “I know your games, kid. Come on.” She opened the door and began out.
“I have a tattoo?”
“Oh, that, you’ll figure it out later.” She smirked. “Now come on! You’re going to later to school and I’ll be late to work, Olli can’t wait forever.”
“Olli? Olli Maatta?” She shrugged again and walked out to her car, an old but beautiful Mustang.
“This is mine?”
“I told you, kiddo, life is going to get good. Now get in.” I smiled and slid in the front seat.
“How good?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
When you’re someone like me, you never mean to feel anything, really.
I hate seeing the look on my mother’s face when she leaves for work and is all but forced to let me stay home because I won’t get out of my bed. I don’t know that’s she’s disappointed - actually, I know she’s not disappointed, she’s just a little sad that I don’t feel like putting the effort forth to get out of bed and take on the world.
The only way to beat something like depression and anxiety is to fight; it’s just nearly impossible to fight something you can’t touch. The intangibility of depression is what makes it so lethal.
It’s hard to fight something you can’t hit.
Another day in bed meant another day without school; another step away from high school graduation, another step away from college graduation.
I can’t afford more days in bed - I want to - but I can’t.
But laying here, in my bed, makes me forget that I can’t afford more.
The side of my bed indents and I want to groan, but don’t make a sound.
I’d heard Mom leave, so why was she back again?
“Jenna?”
But that wasn’t my mother’s voice.
“Jenna, come on, kid, get up.”
I turned around, completely terrified at the foreignly familiar voice.
“Calm down, it’s just me.”
“Me? I don’t know you.”
“You do. Now, what are you doing in bed? Renee’s at school and she’s probably waiting for her best friend to walk into German.”
“I’m sleeping.” I turned over, but she didn’t stop me.
“Okay, okay...but why?”
“I don’t feel good.”
“Is that what you told Mom?”
“Who are you?”
“You need to get out of bed,” She stood up - completely ignoring my question - and went over to my dresser. “You still keep your leggings in the pajama drawer, right?”
“Who are you!?” I sat up, turning to her.
“Jenna, get up.”
“No. Not until you tell me who you are!”
“I’m you.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I’m you. Except, I graduated high school, college, and I work at the CONSOL…” She looked down at her wrist, to an imaginary watch. “Which I need to get to, like, soon. So get up, come on.”
“You’re batshit.”
She smirked. “That’s still up for debate.”
My blood froze in my veins.
“You need to get dressed. And call Mom.”
“Why?”
“Cause you’re going to school.”
“No I’m not. I’m going to sleep.” She sighed and set the pair of yoga pants back in my drawer.
“Jenna, do you want to know something?”
“What you’re doing in my room, you freak.”
“Okay.” She came over and sat on my bed again.
“You’re seventeen...it’s hard to listen to people still. But you need to listen to me. You know how you hate yourself? Somedays it’s like: why the hell am I still here?”
I nodded slowly, shifting back on my bed.
“Well, you remember Skylar?” I scoffed. “Alright, alright. Shut up and listen.” I glared at her, causing her to roll her eyes. “You know she thinks the same thing all the time?”
“I kinda figured.” I said.
“You’re scared that people talk about you, you have this sense of paranoia about school and you wish you could just sit in your bed all day long with a laptop on your lap and Netflix streaming.”
“And?”
“Stop it. People don’t talk about you anymore than they talk about their love for the NHL.”
“A lot of people-”
“Jenna, you’re beautiful. You don’t know it yet - well, you will after I tell you - but guys in college?” I nodded. “They’re going to fall over themselves trying to befriend you. And don’t laugh at me either, I’m telling you the truth. The funny thing is, you’re so oblivious to flirting that you won’t realize it. You’re some guys’ dream. You wear a hockey jersey to bed, for God’s Sake.” I chuckled.
“You are going to be happy after high school. You might be afraid now, that college is going to be hard because of depression, but it’s not. Your roommate - Chris - she’s so understanding. She’s just like Mom. She pushes you to get up everyday, even risking being late to class to make sure you get up, eat, and go to class.”
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you. Believe me when I tell you: you will become everything you ever dreamed of. Life is going to get good, you just gotta get through the loops first.”
“I know.”
“Rockin’ Rollercoaster?” She smiled. “It’s crazy, it’s upside down, and you might cry, but it’s going to end eventually. It has to end. You’re going to walk off that ride, maybe crying, but you’re going to walk off it.” She stood up again and went to my dresser, tossing me a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt.
“Get dressed.” She smiled. “I’ll drive you to school.” She left my room.
I got dressed, taking my time, but I did. I pulled on my BRASH boots and picked up my bookbag and binder.
“Taking your time, I see?” I smiled crookedly. “I know your games, kid. Come on.” She opened the door and began out.
“I have a tattoo?”
“Oh, that, you’ll figure it out later.” She smirked. “Now come on! You’re going to later to school and I’ll be late to work, Olli can’t wait forever.”
“Olli? Olli Maatta?” She shrugged again and walked out to her car, an old but beautiful Mustang.
“This is mine?”
“I told you, kiddo, life is going to get good. Now get in.” I smiled and slid in the front seat.
“How good?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”