Rock Bottom

14 years… 3 months… 6 days…

Laying upon my bed, starring outside my bedroom window mesmerized by the cotton candy clouds suspended in the tropical ocean skies. A beautiful spring afternoon, the type of day that begged to be spent in the Vitamin-D¬†rays, but those 4 walls¬†kept me held hostage. Trapped inside my crippled mind while¬†The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes¬†flooded my eardrums. My broken ticker slowly bleeding out, losing it’s will to keep pumping. Days scheduled with Joker smiles, nights filled with crystal clear tears.

A human body engaged in self-destruct mode… a vanishing life silently screaming to have someone toss it a life preserver. Drained emotionally, mentally and physically. Painful exhaustion was all that remained. Only thoughts of sweet suicide provided temporary relief from the world’s revolver tongue.

“and when it all goes to hell will you be able to tell me sorry with a straight face…” -FOB

That gorgeous Saturday  began as most weekend days, busting at the seams with laughter and curiosity from my two awesome siblings. Plans made to go to the movies were set while pancakes flipped and the coffee maker percolated.

I chose to stay behind, a break from faking happiness was much needed. Keeping it together for your loved ones takes quite the toll on a person who is standing at the edge of the brink. As the van pulled out of the driveway my headphones became once again superglued to my lobes. Hallmark scenery seeping into my eyes while medicinal lyrics IV’d through my veins. While this calmingly numbed the verbal GSWs, a much stronger urge was saturating my mind. Alone I was, perfection had presented itself. Feeling anxious with this unnerving feeling, I got up from my cozy bed and headed towards the kitchen. Cleaning happens to be a distraction from the chaos. Emptying the dishwasher and putting all the sparkling dishes in their assigned homes should’ve worked. And it was until I saw it, there on the top rack of the dishwasher. That amazing 10″ stainless steel chef’s knife. You know what I’m referring to, the knife you’d grab to handle the chopping of melons or squashes. The big boy of the bunch. Grasping it and admiring it’s murderous blade, that uncomfortable feeling of relief returned.

“I’m a nervous wreck, the drugs just make me reset. Knock once for the father, twice for the son, three times for the holy ghost…” -FOB

Living with a disability creates a fascination of the human body and it’s inner-workings. Very familiar with it’s anatomy, I knew exactly how to ensure¬†a quick exit.¬†A single deep, swift¬†clean cut was all I needed. From left to right on my slender neck.¬†Oh how cold the¬†tip of that knife was. I was ready and at the same time not ready. Holding that shiny¬†weapon against my neck, I stared up at the ceiling to¬†call God out.¬†All I am is a¬†freak, a broken toy… damaged goods. Why the hell am I here? I need one good reason why I shouldn’t follow the¬†demands of this¬†knife.¬†Yelling up towards the skies,¬†hands shaking, a¬†tiny streaming sensation drips down my neck. Shaken hands sliced¬†skin, similar to a cat¬†scratch.¬†A few red droplets ran down the knife’s blade. As I gazed upon the red, the garage door opened up. That sound startled me and I dropped the knife. Cat like reflexes to pick it back up, wash it off and head to the bathroom to¬†get rid¬†of any other evidence went into effect.

As the pitter-patter of footsteps refilled the house, so did my joker smile. Two growing¬†minds running into the kitchen to tell me all about the movie they had saw and my mom asking me where¬†I’d like to go for dinner. Darkened eyes answered, “Mexican sounds good” while¬†a mother’s eyes noticed the cut. “What happened? Are you ok?”. “Oh this? Yeah, I’m fine. I was playing with Boots and he ended up scratching my neck. It was my fault, no biggie.” A response of, “Ok, well be careful.” as we left the house for a family dinner. Later that night 4 heads slept while one was on their knees, praying for help. I knew that I needed to make serious changes. I needed to demolish the old me and begin construction of a new invincible me.

14 years… 3 months… 6 days… one life was murdered and a new life was shocked into existence.

“Some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold, but you will remember me….” -FOBdeath

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