Breathe.

That’s all I want to do. Just, breathe. Maybe just for a split second, I can breathe for a while. I’m so tired. I keep blaming things on myself. I want to. That’s how I’ll be able to live with myself. I can’t see someone and understand who they are. I can’t remember their goddamn faces.

Pills. They will fix me. I am broken, imperfect. A nuisance and burden to society. They make me vomit, I don’t care. I want my happiness, I want what was forcefully taken from me and I have every right to get it back. I never asked for this, why the hell would I. My body is aching, I might collapse soon.

I don’t care. 

I sat in the waiting room of the loaning agency. ‘Hope Harpers, 19, Ontario, Cali, 1998-’ I kept repeating the few simple words in my head, if I mess up they’ll laugh and judge. Once again, I’m searching for more money without doing work, without effort. But my dignity was not the main issue right now, my financial state is.

It happened about 2 years ago. I was diagnosed with chronic clinical depression. It has been all I knew since then, my identity. I could barely pay for my medication with my current job as a diner waitress. Not to mention my boyfriend… God, why did I have to drag him into this. I should’ve broken up with him while I had the chance. Caleb, my boyfriend for 2 and a half years, has been there for me for as long as I could remember. I met him all the way back in senior year. He tries his best but well, it’s not enough.

I entered our moderate apartment in the south part of town. It wasn’t the best, not the worst either. I did my usual chores after my 9-5 shift. My usual daily routine goes as follows: Wake up, shower, breakfast, work, lunch, clean the apartment, dinner, sleep. Caleb usually comes home after I finish the chores.

“Did they refuse again?” He asked. “It’s obvious.” “Look, I- How about we go out tonight?” “No Caleb, we can’t, we’re in debt and I really don’t feel like doing anything tonight.” I really hate turning him down, but after today, I felt more exhausted than usual.

I woke up to feel a slight dip on the side of the bed I was facing opposite to, he must’ve went to sleep already. It was already the middle of the night anyways. I knew I promised to him I wouldn’t do it again but I couldn’t help myself. I quietly sneak out to our kitchen area and grabbed a stool to reach the far end of the fridge. That’s when I felt them.

I was out in the balcony, draped over my shoulders was a throw blanket from the couch. The cigarette hanging gingerly off my lips was set ablaze and emitting a slight orange glow that lit up brighter when I inhaled. I just needed time to think, or not at all. That’s when I heard the door slid open behind me.

“Hope…?” Damnit, I felt too guilty to look him in the eye, what kind of girlfriend am I? “You know you’re not supposed to smoke, it’s bad for you.” “How the hell are you supposed to know what’s good and what’s bad for me?” I raised my tone at him. “Because I’ve known you for a long time, Hope.” “What do you know? You only know the things that I choose to show you.” I say to him firmly, tears pricking at the sides of my eyes. 

“There is no need to act tough around people that care about you, Hope. I already know that you cry after you’ve lied about your mental health over the phone, the way you trace your old scars when you’re in the bath, or even the way you pick at your food when you try to ignore the world. No, I might not have known you long enough to know what you’ve been through. But all I can promise you is that I’m here now, as your lover and your best friend.”

I wasted no time in pulling him in an embrace, I’m now a sobbing mess. My legs gave up as we both slowly kneel to the floor. I didn’t want to think. All I wanted to do was to be with him.