Fractals

What do you see when you look across the pond? I remember her asking me that. God, she would have loved this, still being in my head even after she was gone. Why can’t I get her out of my head? It’s been months since I last heard from her, three months. Why, the word we used to joke about, why stay alive, why bother to live, it was just a joke back then, just a joke. Damn it, why wouldn’t she just leave me alone. That’s what she wanted anyway, I think. “You okay T”

“Yeah fine,” why can’t anyone get it? When I come out here I want to be left alone. Although I’m never alone any more she is always in my head. I try to tell myself I’m not going insane, but sometimes I wonder, am I? I’m having a conversation with myself right now, sane people don’t do that. She always called me a weird child though, I guess she was right, She always was right. Why can’t my life just go right for once, I want a life without meds without my closest friends being suicidal. I know what I see when I look across the pond now, me but a version of me who has a normal happy life.

My phone buzzes, time to take my meds. As I stand up my knee twinges, an old injury, once again my thoughts drift to her. She got me through that, helped me when I was at one of my lowest points. My phone buzzes again interrupting my train of thoughts, probably should head inside. As I walk back up to the house I see my mom staring at me through the window. She worries about me, turns out I’m not very good at acting, She discovered that. A piece of paper blown across the lawn catches my sight, I should probably pick it up. It catches my attention again, the piece of paper, not because it was flapping more because of what’s on it. I walk over almost on autopilot, Her face is on it, the word ‘Missing’ printed on the top. I feel the heat of tears prickle my numb face as they trickle down. I don’t realise I’m crying, though I don’t realise much these days. I lean down and pick up the paper I feel my mind fighting with itself. The blurred image from her train pass takes up the majority of the paper. The poster is ripped and damp, but it’s survived pretty well for three months, better than I.

I hear my mum call me “ Tatiana, are you alright darling” Am I alright? Is she‘s kidding, I’m fourteen years old on Antidepressants, suffer from insomnia, lost my best friend and I will never be able to do what I love doing most ever again. Am I alright, what kind of sick joke is that. I almost snap back at her but something stops me, why should I snap at my mum, find my mother is not perfect but then who is? I turn around and head inside the piece of paper still flapping around on the lawn. I kick my boots of messily as I walk in, shrugging my damp coat off I walk to my bedroom. I hate my bedroom, it’s a reminder of who I was and what I used to be able to do. I have tried to redecorate but I can never gather the courage. Damn it, that’s her in my head again. I slump down on my bed, head in my hands tears free flowing. My phone buzzes again, the bottle of Antidepressants sits on my shelf almost teasing me, I can almost hear it laughing at me in that same sing song voice the counselors all used. Again my phone buzzes I probably should take those meds. My arm reaches out, hand outstretched I grab the bottle. Flipping the lid up I pop two tablets out. As I reach to put back the bottle I knock over a photo. I catch sight of it as I put it back on the shelf, it’s of her and me on our horses at the beach on my birthday last year. I curl up on my bed clutching the picture close to my chest. I’m not sure how long I was crying for before I fell asleep but I do know that nine hours later my mum woke up.

How much can one take before they crumble and fall? I have asked myself many times, I think the first time I asked myself that was after the fall, when I hurt my knee. It’s weird to think that nine months ago I was living the normal life of a horse crazy teenager. I had two amazing friends I got the train to school with, three friends outside of school who I have known since I was small and two friends that I went and competed with every other weekend. Plus loads of other friends that I may not have been so close to but they were still my friends. Now I get the train alone, I can only see one of my outer school friends and after I quit the circuit I gradually stopped seeing my horsey friends. This is depressing just thinking about it, how It only took nine months for me lose six of my closest friends, girls I would have trusted with my life. Nine months, same time it takes to form a human baby, is enough for my life to fall apart.

Two days later I wake up in a hospital bed. I look around looking for a nurse or a doctor to explain why I’m here. A new nurse I haven’t seen before catches my eye and comes over. She has strawberry breath and her tag says Nurse Ferguson. “Can you help me” is the first question I decided to ask. “Depends.” she replies with a badly hidden smirk on her face. She seems nice. “Do you kno w how long I’ve been here?” that seems an obvious question to ask. “Two days” is the reply. “I’ll you and get your doctor for you know if you want” That’s nice of her, I should probably agree and get this over and done with. Doctors never mean good things, that’s one rule she taught me. “We need to talk” is the next thing she says. I can’t help but roll my eyes, now what. She reaches for my arm and holds my hand, then gently but firmly pulls up my sleeve. Fuck, that’s not good. Among the old scars some new cuts litter my arm. “Why?” Is the only thing she says. Great I’m either going to come clean and confess I’ve been thinking about Her again and face or the fake sympathy then counselling or make a cover story and get away with a lecture. The lie comes almost naturally it’s scary how good I’ve become at lying. I zone out whilst the nurse lectures me about talking to people not venting my messed up emotions on myself. By the time I’ve been allowed to leave it’s dark outside and as my mother leads me towards the car all I can think about is her.

Mother shouts and cries on the way back it starts with her asking why, I almost laugh at that. Then it goes onto how much pain I’ve caused her, you think I don’t know that. Then it goes onto why am I such a messed up child and how am I not over that yet. By the time we get home I want to run, as I shut my coat in the cupboard I see my old pair of trainers taunting me. Why am I broken? Mother calls for me to come in and have supper, the smell of the food makes me feel sick. As I poke around with my food not really eating I see mother glaring at me, I can hear her saying to herself ‘An eating disorder to add now’. I know she won’t, she loves me. The rational part of my brain says that anyway. Why am I broken, what is wrong with me, why do I talk like this to myself and why do I always think the worse. I excused myself and walk upstairs. I sit on the edge of the stairs, I hate my bedroom. The among the trophies on the wall one catches my eye, from when I won at Scope last year. Looking at it I hear myself back there feeling on top of the world. L and her had come and were cheering in the crowds. Nemo and pricked his ears and bucked as we did our lap of honour with friends behind me. I turn away, thinking about the past isn’t going to bring it back.

As my alarm buzzes the next morning, I internally wince at the thought of spending 7 hours trapped in a classroom. As I pull my uniform on I can’t help like feeling like an outsider. The clothes are mine but the material feels heavy against my skin. I walk down stairs my feet feeling the cold stone through the tights. I grab a cereal bar from the counter and pull my bag over my shoulder. I shout bye to mother but she is still asleep. It’s weird having this much time, the mornings use to be such a rush, it’s not like I have anything else to do now though. I text Cassie as I walk down the drive, it’s weird just standing here but I’m not going to be cycling anytime soon. By the time we pull into the station a nice conversation had developed, the sort you have when you don’t want actually talk. The stairs have been redone at the station, it’s sad as the old ones were pretty. The new ones are suicide proof, it comes as a joke of sorts. The train comes and I can’t help looking for her, it’s an innocent habit but one that hurts all the same. When we get on the train I make the choice not to sit in carriage E instead grabbing a seat down the train. The kids come and sit down. They seem so innocent talking about TV shows, I leave them with my bag and then go and buy a coffee, I need it. The kids are chatting away when I come back, I’m not sure why I call them kids in my head they are only a year younger. I also don’t know why I am monologuing my day right now, I can’t help it, I can’t stop either. It’s like an addiction, I would do anything to break the habit yet I can’t, I have lost control over my own body.