I sat still, staring at the black page. My heart was racing, but other than that, I felt no emotion. I breathed in deeply. I started to write.
Dear dad, I am so sorry I have to do this.
Now, what?
It's too bad I don't have life insurance.
Scratch that out.
You're going to save money since you won't have to buy that many oatmeal creme cookies anymore.
Scratch that out too. I needed to be more serious than this. Why couldn't I do this? It's such a simple task. When I'm gone, I'm sure my father won't appreciate my jokes.
I want to be buried with my purple hair. DON'T CHANGE IT.
Scratch. This just isn't working. I began to tremble. I couldn't take this stress. It seems like I can't complete any task, not even ending everything. I looked at my bedroom walls. They were still a doll house pink from when I was little. Seriously, it wouldn't cost more than fifty dollars to repaint this tiny excuse for a bedroom. Why have I been so lazy? Squished between all the band posters on my walls, there was a picture of me, my father, and my two little sisters. I stared at the photo for a long time, hoping that maybe I could hear their voices and they'd talk me out of this. I always felt so detached from the rest of my family. I was going to try one last time to write this letter.
Dear dad, I am so sorry I have to do this.
Think, Violet, think! My brain is practically screaming at me.
My final request is for you to play the musical "Free for Fools" on repeat at my funeral. Pure torture for our relatives.
No, that's just as inappropriate. One more try.
You shouldn't leave guns laying around the house.
I give up. I'm not writing it. I swiftly pick up the gun and press it to my temple. I sat completely still, waiting for my life to flash before my eyes. I waited for and angel to appear and tell me the secret to life, but it just wasn't happening. Shouldn't I feel something? I tried so hard to think about all the good times in my life, but instead, I found myself completely mesmerized by my room. Was I the one who chose to fill my room with light colors? Pink walls, white carpet, and white bedding. I can't even imagine the mess it's going to make if I do this. Who would have to clean in? I'm losing focus. I grasp the gun tightly and squeeze my eyes shut. This would be easier if I quit asking myself questions. What if I look super horrifying when I'm found? Then I had a very clear image of my father scrubbing me off the floor and walls.
"Oh, screw this!" I snapped, dropping the gun on the ground. "I can't do this." I moved quickly. I grabbed my favorite backpack off my dresser. Most people would think floral bags are out of style, but I could never bring myself to replace it. I thought back to the time I was six years old and tried to run away from home. I grabbed this floral backpack, filled it with my toys, and went off to try to find my mother. I truly believed I could just walk as many miles as necessary to find her. All with the help of my barbies. I guess I've always been foolish. I slid open all my dresser drawers and stared at my clothes blankly. How much should I pack? I've never done this before. I didn't even want to be in a mental hospital, but I feel like I've run out of options. I started picking up random clothes and throwing them in. I needed to move quickly before I change my mind. I started to head for the door when I realized I was forgetting one thing. I tore my family picture off the wall and wrote a message on the back.
Remember why you're here.
I shoved it in my bag while grabbing my car keys. I tried to make a run for my car, when my nosy neighbor, Marie stopped me.
"Miss Violet Varella," She leaned in for a hug. I awkwardly patted her on the back.
"Hey, Mrs. Ellis." I didn't have time to listen to what she had to say. "Listen, I actually need to be somewhere, so-"
She cut me off. "I just wanted to see if you could tell your father that the grass needs cut and the flowers are dying. They obviously need water." She pointed to my yard as if it were any of her business.
"I'll let him know." I opened my car door.
"Oh, and Violet," Here it comes. One more thing to make this day worse. "You know, you're not gonna get anywhere in life with that purple hair."
I rolled my eyes. I wasn't in the mood for this. "Mind your own damn business, Marie." She took in a deep gasp and her hand tightened around her chest as if she was having a heart attack. I jumped in my car and slammed the door. She continued to yell at me. I wasn't exactly paying attention, but I knew it was about how my father had no clue how to raise daughters. I started my car, lit a cigarette and smiled at her. "Have a nice day!" I yelled back, putting my car in reverse to leave.
The drive to the emergency room was long. I was blasting one of my favorite bands, Tea Time Dolls. It was beautiful outside. The sun was shining. The air was warm. People were walking their dogs and children were playing. It didn't seem like a day for anyone to be depressed, but I was. I felt so pathetic. I cannot stress how badly I wanted to cry, but I would never let that happen. I maintained a completely straight face.
I pulled up to the hospital. I forced myself out of my car and dragged my shaky, wobbly legs up through the entrance and to the front desk.
"How can I help you?" The nurse asked. She had a welcoming smile. All I wanted was to lean in and hug her.
"I was going to kill myself, but I failed." I stared at her, emotionless. Her smiled dissipated.
"Hunny, we're gonna take you right back to a room." She called another nurse to lead me to my room.
I could tell within minutes that this wasn't going to be fun. They made a nurse stand with me while I changed into a gown. They took away my bag, saying that they needed to check it. I even got yelled at because apparently, I can't have my phone charger without supervision. I get that it's a wire, but I wouldn't try anything with a phone charger, that's embarrassing. I was also nervous because I had to ask them to call my dad. They told me he's on his way here. I can only imagine what he's thinking. Typical, Violet. So needy. It's always something. I could physically feel my heart breaking. Why am I so hard to deal with. I tried doing some breathing exercises. Breathe in for four seconds. Hold for four seconds. Breathe out for four seconds. My lungs felt like they were collapsing under the pressure of my anxiety. Don't cry, Violet.
My dad burst through the thin wall made of curtains. "Violet! My baby! Are you alright?" Tears streamed down his face. My father was the emotional one. It was a relief, somebody needed to cry and it wasn't going to be me.
"I thought you were going to be mad at me." I forced my eyes closed. I didn't want to see the pain in his eyes. I wanted to wake up and realize this was all a dream. I am so selfish for putting my father through this. He sat on the side of my bed and wrapped his arms around me. I felt his heart pounding, he must have been horrified. We sat silently, for a moment.
"I'm so happy you're alive and okay." He whispered. I could feel his emotion, it seeped into me. For once, I felt like I was truly noticed. I always felt left out. We never had a mother figure. She signed us over to our father at a young age. I was old enough to remember, though. I was five. My twin sisters were one. A single father juggling three young daughters was too much. I completely understood why I got pushed to the side, but i felt so lonely. I was always too strange to have friends. I didn't get the best grades in school. I only liked watching musicals and wore clothes that others considered strange. I couldn't even find a single talent in myself. Growing up, my sisters always had each other. They balanced each other out. Now, they're fifteen. Alena is a straight A student and Adaline is very talented gymnast. All I do is hide in my room and listen to sad music. My father let me go and wiped away his tears. "What brought you to this point, Violet?" He questioned, sternly.
I stared blankly at the wall. I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact. "Well, I found out they are canceling my favorite series, Bleakwood Falls. Now I'll never be able to find out is Emily is going to become a vampire."
"This is not a time for jokes!" He snapped.
"I know, dad." My head fell into my hands. The doctor walked in, saving me from the awkwardness of facing my father. He asked my dad to leave the room so he could ask me some quick questions. My father shook his head, still angry that it's impossible for me to open up to him.
"So," He sifted through my paperwork. "What's making you feel this way, Ms. Varella.?"
My eyes instinctively rolled up to watch the ceiling. Ever inch of my existence wanted me to be serious for once. I wanted to scream and crying and completely break down. I wanted to lay on the floor in fetal position and tell this doctor exactly how I felt and why. I felt like I was on a never-ending rollercoaster and I should be holding onto the bed rails for dear life. "I'm just sad." I blurted out.
"Well, What the reasoning behind your sadness." He asked, patiently. I needed to open up.
"Life just sucks, you know?" I did find myself grabbing the bed railings.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk to me. You'll be talking to other doctors at Fair Oak Psychiatric Hospital. Just sign these papers, stating you're going." I signed my name.
"Ignore my horrible handwriting." I paused. "A psychiatric hospital? Sounds like a party to me."
"Ms. Varella, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." He smiled.
"I'm just trying my best to cater to my audience." I hand motioned to the empty room.
We shook hands and he quickly walked out. It's strange, that this man had such an impact on my life, yet I'll never see him again. You wouldn't think he mattered, but he did. Even in the few short minutes we spoke, I was able to tell him I was sad. I never say those two words to anybody. The thing is, I told him because I knew he could help me in some way. Although Fair Oak doesn't sound fun, it's still the best way he could help me.
The anxiety medicine they gave me was starting to kick in. My father staggered his way back into the room and slumped into the uncomfortable metal hospital chair. It was obvious he wasn't here to make small talk. He sat silently, glaring at me with the most disappointed facial expression. I'm sure, maybe he wanted me to apologize and say how immature I am for reacting to my emotions in the way, but I wasn't sorry. My feelings are valid and sometimes I deserve the right to deal with my emotions in my own way. Even if it means being admitted to the hospital, and not being able to help raise my sisters or clean the house for a few weeks. So, I decided that we weren't going to talk about it. He won't understand, so what's the point. I looked around the room and realized I was trapped. Surrounded by dull blue and gray walls, wearing this repulsive, diamond patterned hospital gown. I was surrounded by sick people, who were probably contagious and they were surrounded by machines that wouldn't stop beeping. Plus, the only thing they want me to do is stare at this little tv screen. They have gross food and an even nastier sense of style. I shoved my face into the paper thin hospital pillow. I don't want to be here anymore. They won't transport me until tomorrow morning. I could attempt to sleep. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift away.
I felt someone grabbing my arms. I tugged away and jumped up, ready for battle. I quickly realized it was just a nurse and exhaled all the courage I had built up.
"Ms. Varella, I'm just doing my rounds." She waved at me, attempting to prove she was just nurse and not a threat. "I just need your vitals."
"What time is it?" I grumbled, trying to gain consciousness.
"It's about five in the morning. You should be leaving soon."
"Is he coming back?" I asked, after realizing my father had left without saying goodbye. I hope he wasn't that angry with me.
"Oh, he just went to get you breakfast." She smiled sweetly and wondered out of the room to take care of the countless other patients. I couldn't imagine having such a stressful job, let alone having to smile through it. I wonder how many times a day she gets thrown up on.
Shortly after, my dad walked back into the room with some breakfast sandwiches. He seemed more relaxed now. The breakfast bag was gently placed on my bed and he handed me my favorite white chocolate mocha.
"Thanks." I said, genuinely.
"You're very welcome, dear." He replied. I knew I would be leaving shortly, so this was my chance to smooth things out with my father.
"Dad, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just sad. I-"
He cut me off. "Don't ever think that you have offended me by having an illness. I want you to get better. I completely support your decision to admit yourself to Fair Oak. I was in shock at first because I almost lost me daughter, but now everything is fine and we are going to focus on you being happy. Okay?" He sipped his coffee. It was like he was radiating a sympathetic, caring energy.
"Okay." An illness. It felt so nice that it had a name and the blame wasn't on me. I suddenly didn't feel guilty anymore. I could finally focus on myself and what I needed.
We talked for a few more hours. We had fun. We talked about the weather. It's so warm outside and Fair Oak has a courtyard, so I can enjoy it. We talked about my favorite music and how much it makes his ears bleed. I spent half an hour trying to explain exactly what alternative music was. He spent half an hour explaining to me that it's just sad music, and it's probably triggering my depression. I made my horrible sarcastic remarks and he forced himself to laugh. We talked about my twin sisters and how incredibly talented they are. He reassured me that they could never pull off purple hair. We laughed a lot in the short amount of time. I told him the story of the nurses taking away my phone charger, he laughed and stated that I wouldn't get that creative anyway. I told him what Mrs. Ellis said and he applauded me for losing my manners. It was wonderful bonding with my father. I never get quality time with him. Part of me felt like he may be throwing me a pity party. I explained to him that I wanted to repaint my room when I got home because pink in a gross color, he agreed. I brought up my mother and he quickly decided the conversation was over.
The paramedics entered my room, with a new uncomfortable bed for me to lay on. "So how much is this ambulance ride going to cost me?" I snickered. They didn't respond, obviously they weren't here for fun. I climbed up on the bed and they strapped me in. "Are you strapping me in because I'm crazy and I'll attack?" I asked.
"It's your seat belt, miss." They replied, ever so blandly. I sighed. Is it even possible to have fun around these people? My dad patted me on the shoulder. He didn't say a word. They wheeled me out the door and onto the ambulance. It was going to be a short ride, but that didn't mean the paramedics were willing to talk to me. I didn't have much of view either, all i could do was stare out the back window and watch all the other people on the road live their lives. I became so focused on who these strangers were. What were their names? Were they in relationships? Did they have kids? Where do they work? Are they happy with their life decisions? Are the depressed like me? Do any of them look like crazy serial killers? I was deeply drowning in my own thoughts. I didn't even notice that we had made it to the hospital. They opened the back doors and pulled my out. The outside of the building was covered in old repetitive bricks, nothing interesting. You could tell from the outside that it was meant to be a mental hospital, it almost felt like prison. I actually wondered in the inside would be as boring as the outside, but then I remembered I'm at a mental hospital. I doubt it will be uneventful.
ns216.73.216.35da2
and then Add to home screen.