Fallout

Do not read this post if you are happy and optimistic.  It will immediately bring your mood down.  I repeat, do not read unless you want to be depressed as I am at the moment.

 

I got up at about one this afternoon.  Daylight Savings kicked in today, and when I looked at my clock, I thought it was twelve.  I was far too groggy to really care.  I suppose I should be happy that I got the extra sleep, but in all honesty, I feel nothing but a void.  Last night’s event took a toll on me, as have all the deaths of the people I care about.  These days, it feels like it’s just one death after the other.  I’m so tired of it.  So tired of it all.

Possibly one of the creepiest things happened that day.  According to my friend, his dad turned and smiled at my friend’s aunt.  He died right after.  It was like he knew it was going to happen.  He even said, right at the beginning, “I didn’t come to sing.  I came to preach.”

One minute, he was preaching at the pulpit, full of energy as ever when he does so.  The next, he fell over, literally dropping dead.

He didn’t suffer, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about the fact that he’s gone.

I know where he went, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

That evening at the hospital, I spent most of it walking around, attempting to avoid everyone while I tried finding an outlet, something that would make me stop tearing up and wanting to shout at the sky.  The broiling emotions were driving me stark raving mad.  I couldn’t handle it.  I couldn’t stand everyone having to see me cry.  I wanted to be strong.  My friend and his mom needed me, and I was nearly as incapacitated as they were.

I finally found a way to get rid of it after a bit.  I watched where my friend would walk, and took the path he never took down to the lower garage area.  After I was certain no one was nearby, I started kicking and punching the concrete wall as hard as I could without seriously hurting myself.  It hurt, to be sure, but I didn’t break any bones or of the sort.  I made my knuckles red, and possibly my foot too.  They throbbed for a bit  The following adrenaline rush actually calmed me down, and I no longer felt the need to hurt the innocent wall.  I kicked mostly with my right foot, so I limped for a few minutes before I could fully use it again.  The rest of the night was filled with me going back and forth between being emotionless and crying.  The only time I went back to being angry was when I finally got a hold of my mom.  My phone had died trying to find service in a dead zone, leaving me with no way to contact anyone.  I managed to get my step-dad, and tell him where I was at before we went to the hospital.  Other than telling him that my friend’s dad had had a heart attack, that was all.  It was the truth, at the time.  His heart had stopped when he fell over, but a lady came over and told me the medics got him back.  So, I felt no need to tell him he had been dead when there was still hope.  At the hospital, the few people there for the first hour or so had no working phones, and since I had gone across the state border, I couldn’t call home.  Hospital phones won’t let you call a different area code.

When my mom called, after all that time I took to withhold my emotions, I broke down again.  I shouted at another wall He’s gone! while kicking it with all my might.  Little did I know until I looked, my friend was much closer than I thought.  I hid my face as I cried some more.  He and his family needed me, and I couldn’t control myself.  It made me feel so helpless.  My mother tried to comfort me, telling me that was how life was.  I’d heard the same line so many times, it’s no longer comforting.  It just makes me angrier.  I don’t care! I shouted into the borrowed phone, and Mom just said she knew.  She knew I didn’t care.  She still tried to calm me down.  It worked to a certain extent.  Tears were still dropping down my face, but I was slightly less angry at the world.

By that time, my mom told me my step-dad was on his way to come get me.  However, it took them awhile to track me down considering I had no phone.  They had finally found out where I’d ended up, and my step-dad had just started out out not too long ago.  I was saying sorry over and over because I knew I had worried them with the mere fact that they hadn’t been able to call me, and that I was at the hospital.  I have been at the hospital for other people far too many times.  At the very least, my mom knows the negative impact it has had on me.

Everyone at the hospital was finally leaving.  I was going to be stuck alone, and I knew it.  I welcomed it, though.  I could finally be truly alone with my sadness, not having to worry about anyone seeing how much wreckage I hid.  They were all leaving at the emergency entrance while I was going to be picked up at the main entrance.  I told my friend goodbye, since I wouldn’t be seeing him again for awhile.  His cousin didn’t want to leave me by myself though.  I applauded his sense of responsibility, but in all honesty, I wanted to be by myself.  I told him where I was going to be, and, while no one was paying any attention, I took off.  I thought that if I was stubborn enough, he’d forget about it.

I was wrong.

He and my friend came back and waited with me.

On the one hand, I was annoyed, though I didn’t show it.  He also thought I was sixteen until I corrected him.  On the other hand, I was actually glad I still had them waiting with me, even though my friend was still on someone’s phone talking.  It was his way of not having to think about his dad being dead.  I kind of wish he would’ve talked more to everyone else, though.  It feels like now that was his own way of bottling up his own emotions.

When I got home, I felt completely devoid of emotion.  I was a little hungry, but ended up finding out that I was running on empty.  I ate a whole can of chili plus two slices of pizza.  I had skipped breakfast and had no lunch.  At the time, I honestly didn’t feel that hungry, and most of the time not at all.

My mom and step-dad tried to cheer me up by playing a movie.  I felt little comfort in watching Thor 2, even though I’ve been wanting to watch it for awhile.  Granted, I got some laughs out of it, and it brought out some geek moments in me, but otherwise it was hard to enjoy it.  The death scenes affected me more than they should have.

I went to bed without changing clothes, trying to shove out everything that happened.

One minute, he was preaching at the pulpit, full of energy as ever when he does so.  The next, he fell over, literally dropping dead.

He didn’t suffer, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about the fact he’s gone.

I know where he went, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

How.  How is it that a day that started out so well, with so much fun and laughter abounding,  ended with so much misery.

The last thing I remember before falling asleep was a vague thought of what would’ve happened if it had been me that fell over, having passed out; not dead.  I don’t know why.

It was just a thought.

If only the whole day was just an unpleasant thought.

If only.

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Mirror Universe

There are days where I’m convinced that there’s another universe or dimension on the other side of my hallway mirror.  I’ve stuck my hand on it, thinking I should fall through it, only to encounter a stubborn barrier that refuses to get out of my way.  I think if I spontaneously lost all reasoning, I would just keep smacking the mirror until someone pulled me away or I fell through to my other universe.

On these days, I contemplate what the other universe would be like.  Would everyone’s personalities be flipped? Would they be the same? Would a key element be missing from the picture, say someone not ever having existed? Would it be the same old world, or would it have superheroes, monsters, magic, or all of the above? One must wonder.  And, often in my wondering, I think that maybe, on the other side of the mirror, is another me, wondering and contemplating the same thing, always in sync, always there when I am, always going to and fro of that mirror.  Whether she’s going to do the same thing I have in mind, I don’t know.  I just know she’s always there, along with anyone else that may cross paths with that mirror.

And now I wonder, what would happen if the synchronizing was broken? One died without the other’s knowledge.  One would be without a reflection, forever feeling like an undead vampire when they look at the mirror, minus the lust for blood and aversion to the sun.  That one would wonder, what happened to my reflection? They may wonder endlessly, where did it go? Why did it disappear? This makes no sense! Forever pondering why it’s gone until they die themselves.  I wonder…