Flea Bite

I’m alone. Or, not really alone. I’m never entirely alone. I’m always surrounded by someone, my parents or Elizabeth or Mikey are always floating around. But I feel alone. And currently, that lonely feeling has a burning sensation buzzing inside my chest.

I haven’t been to school in three days. I’m tired. I tell my dad it’s the flu — that I’m just exhausted, fatigued. That I’ll be okay in a few days. But how long can I possibly push off “a few days” before someone realizes it’s not a physical illness I’m suffering from, but an emotional one?

My head hurts. Memories of the mall — of Frank — are buzzing around in my head. I’m exhausted. My hands are shaky. My breathing feels still, like I’m barely breathing at all. I just want to go back in time and feel like I used to. I might have been perceived as boring, as shy and as a loser, but my mediocre life was my boring life and it was enough. It wasn’t this, and it wasn’t these never ending feelings.

Today I bought a few small items for myself. Just a few feel good items. A small velvet throw blanket, a box of my favorite dark chocolate. And two bottles of Benadryl. My thought process isn’t even one I understand — I didn’t go out with the intention of buying Benadryl. I have no actual need for it. But I spent so much time staring at the bottles of the little pink pills, that by the time the two bottles were in my hand they didn’t even feel foreign or wrong, it just felt secure. Like I was finally taking back control of my very much out of control life.

I’m sitting criss-cross on my bed, the new soft blanket draped across my shoulders lazily, box of half eaten chocolates on my bedside table. Pills in front of me. I haven’t taken Benadryl in years, only remembering that they made me so tired feeling as a child that even when my allergies would get the best of me I still wouldn’t want to take them. But now is different, much different. I want to go to sleep.

I break the seal on the first bottle and rest my water bottle between my legs. One, two, three. Then I settle for dumping a handful in my shaky hand and staring at the small pink pills. I don’t know what I expect to come from this — what will it fix? Everything. My thoughts are racing, my chest hurts. Everything hurts. No one ever told me or prepared me for this growing up. They never told me how lonely I would feel when I grew up. And this lonely feeling is too much for me to bare anymore. I just want to feel whole again.

Without even entirely realizing my actions, they pills are in my mouth. The texture of the mouthful of pills is sickening. I’m trying to chase it down with water, but some of the water escapes my mouth and I’m retching. The tears in my eyes sting. I’m trying to quiet my heaving while looking at the emptier bottle. My first thought is what the hell did I just do — and then it’s quickly followed by me doing the action again. My stomach is churning and I want to go to the bathroom and get sick. My mouth taste god awful. I don’t have it in me to even touch the second bottle while the first round has me feeling the way it does.

My head feels heavy, and my eyes are sore and puffy from crying. I toss my water bottle off the side of my bed and lay down stiffly, my stomach twisting and turning. I close my eyes, a million thoughts racing and not one of them making any sense.

Before I fall into an uncomfortable sleep, my last thought and the only thought I can focus on, is how I just wish I could be a kid again. I wish I was a child again with no worries, with no fear outside of monsters under my bed. It would always beat the feeling I have now.