It's funny, even when you think you have everything you wanted, you can still feel like nothing. The things that you think will make you happy can do nothing to assuage the darkness that surrounds you. Or maybe the darkness already lies inside the heart. Maybe the best we can do is push the darkness as far down as possible and do our best to ignore it. It's a miserable thought but one that unfortunately seems to hold true.
Was I ever really happy? Truly, truly happy? Sure I've found some joy in my life. I've had a few good days here and there. But overall my existence was miserable. Parents who barely gave me the time of day, a temper that made people give me a wide berth, and looks that would have been better on a Ukrainian man than a young girl. There were very few bright spots in this bleak life of mine though. I fell in love with a boy who showed me true kindness, but once again that pesky temper of mine only pushed him away. I had a best friend who was there for me through thick or thin, but even then sometimes I wondered if she was only there out of pity.
See? The darkness is always present somewhere in my life. It became exhausting. I fought it, I fought people, I fought myself but it was always there. And since the world around me didn't seem to change, I changed instead.
My unibrow was trimmed, I took weight gainers to give me curves and exercised to keep my stomach flat. I got a job and used the money to buy the clothes that society deemed appropriate for me. I even tampered down the fiery personality that scalded so many people around me. I was no longer me, but everything seemed to improve. People actually wanted to be around me. My friends no longer seemed to be there out of pity or obligation. Even my parents began to pay attention to me, actually praised me for making editor of the school paper. And, most incredible of all, the boy who I thought was unobtainable, was suddenly became close to me. He held no romantic interest for me, not that I ever expected he ever would, but we became close friends.
But even as everything in my life seemed to come together, a deep heavy sadness began to surround me. I tried fighting it. I filled my days with softball, writing, dancing, and socializing. The darkness only grew heavier. I could feel myself growing angry and frustrated, but no one could be around the angry, frustrated me. So I filled my life with even more things to keep the sadness at bay. The exhaustion began to take its toll on my very soul. No one seemed to notice. Or if they did, they chalked it up to my busy schedule.
I could feel myself beginning to slip. Cracks started forming, marring my polished veneer. Sleep became my only escape. I could only be myself when I slept. I started sleeping earlier and longer. I had to quit the softball team so I could increase my sleep time from eight hours a day to ten hours a day. I cut down my social life so I could increase that to nearly twelve hours. But then when the dreams stopped, my sleeping schedule didn't change. I no longer dreamed but I was still tired from dealing with my miserable reality.
And then the voice mail came.
I had been out with the girls all night and by the time I got home I was drained. Beyond drained. There was nothing left of me after a day of primping and grooming myself until I was unrecognizable, followed by putting on a performance of someone who was happy and put together. I plugged my long dead phone into the charger and cringed when it came to life and beeped, notifying me of a new voicemail. I almost ignored it, but I played it anyway.
"Um hey, Helga," Arnold's voice played over my phone, sounding nervous, "it, Arnold. I um, was hoping that I would catch you but I guess I didn't. I uh, wanted to talk to you about… something. It's… you've changed, and… I noticed. And I um, was wondering if I could talk to you? It's important. So call be back okay? Um… bye."
My phone then beeped and what was left of my heart shattered. He may have called my phone and said my name, but he wanted to talk to a completely different person. He said that he noticed that I changed. It was that change that made it possible for him to even be friends with me. It was the same with everyone else. My parents now accepted me because I was someone else. My so called friends were only that because I was easier to be around. And Arnold only wanted to talk to me because of the role I was playing. But I was tired of playing that role. I created the perfect life, but it was someone else's life. I deleted the voicemail making a note to call him back in the morning and just went to bed.
But when the morning came, the sadness had not lifted. It pressed down on me, the darkness that I tried so hard to bury in my heart had encased me, engulfed me entirely. I was just too tired to play this role anymore, to live someone else's life while I withered away into nothingness.
So here I sit, writing the last words in my journal, the only place I still existed. Next to me is a half full bottle of my dad's old pain medication from an injury he had years ago. Beside that is a half full bottle of vodka that my mom thought she hid when she went sober. Both of them only got better when I became someone else. Everyone was happier when I became someone else.
The pills filled my hand when I upend the bottle into my hand and then shove them into my mouth. I unscrew the cap to the vodka and wash the pills down with the burning liquid. I kept drinking it to make sure it had its full effect. I only stopped when I feel the room start to spin. I rise to my feet slowly and stumble to the bed. My head hits the pillow and I sigh, feeling content. Now I could finally sleep, and be truly happy as I am.
