Life Is Worth Living

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Alana Nicole had a past of self-harm and suicidal thoughts, she is only fourteen years old. An ex boyfriend drove her to these thoughts leaving her to believe no one will love her. As she imagines
herself back in the hallways of her past mental hospital her mind swarms with thoughts and memories of her former room mates and friends.


Alana reached for her makeup blender from across from where she sat. Her legs were crisscrossed in her chair in front of her vanity glowing with Christmas lights wrapped around her mirror. She inspected the black makeup blender stained with tan colors around its odd shape. She held out her arm in front of her, specifically her left and began blending her foundation onto her artery. Only faded red lines remained on her wrist. She glanced at her mirror and stared into her blue eyes full of shining tears. Alana grabbed her eyeshadow in anger and took a deep breath, her shoulders moving up and down. She glanced at the wooden mirror and closed her eyes, leaving a tear to roll down her cheek.

 The hallway Alana finds herself in has as much personality as the rest of the hospital. The floor is slate gray and the walls white. Above the ceiling is made from squares. The light is too bright for her eyes after the darkening gloom outside. There are inspirational prints on the wall, tasteful in the dull kind of way. Above every door she passes  is a large plastic sign, dark with white lettering- no fancy fonts, just bold and all-caps. The bedrooms all hold shivering teenagers wrapped in white towels used for blankets. Alana stares into her old room, where she sees the light above the bed still flickered and the air-conditioner still clanked on and off. And there Oliver lay, alone in his bed.

His mind was a constant poison that would fill him with venom. He too was a patient here as much as anyone else, the only difference was that he was the elder. She remembers when the group therapy sessions first began; he introduced himself and admitted that he had terrible anxiety, he even apologized for any future incidents his mental illness might cause. He is filled with his own darkness and depression which he still attempts to file away and forget, like a bad grade or an overgrown nail. He is with her in this sea of depression, not knowing how to swim. Oliver has constructed a boat you see, it is made from our words and thoughts that are shared in these sessions.

Alana whispered, “psst! Olly!” but he didn’t move, leaving an echo of her words flooding the hallway. She covered her ears, and pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins. If she could just curl up into a ball she wouldn’t have to face real life, she’d be protected from everything around her. But she’d still have to live with herself, with the wretched memories swirling around in her head. Her  eyes, already red and puffy from crying, squeezed shut to push more tears out. She let her  head fall down to her knees, and  pulled her legs closer to her body. No matter what she did, there was no where she could hide from the thoughts in her head.

Suddenly water began rushing her feet from the shower rooms. Alana jumped up from the cold water. The flood tore down everything that stood in its way, leaving millions of shards, as if broken hope had become visible. Alana ran for the doors but the door was solid metal. Nothing was going to budge it. The surface was flat and shiny like the outside of a stainless steel refrigerator. There was no handle, no lock, no hinges, nothing to get a grip on. The top and bottom, even the sides, lay so flush with the frame that there was no hope of trying for it to open. Alana ran down the other side of the hallway, the water at her neck. She floated up and was thrown under water.


Submitted: January 07, 2018

© Copyright 2021 Royalty Carson. All rights reserved.

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Comments

AmyHi

This thoughts of a person are very common and reflects in todays generation.

Mon, January 8th, 2018 5:11am

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