There is only one way to become a hero-You have to save their life. Um, I save my own, day after day. But does that count too? My pale arms have become a little canvas for silver blades that love all the crimson red that flows through my body. I stand at the balcony, smoking my lungs black but I don’t jump down from it. I save myself. When I can’t sleep at night, I burn the stove and stare at the blue. I just sit. Don’t burn. Do I not save myself?
I get full blown panic attacks. A lot of sweat, heart pounding in tandem, an irresistible urge to run and scream and smack my head in the wall but I don’t. Instead, I sit on my bed and look at the walls or the roof or somewhere in the void and I zone out. In that moment, I think I un-become a person. I am a body with a racing heart and lots of oxygen left but no life. Just no life. I’m alive but no damn life.
There are nightmares about people dying, losing out on important things in life and making reckless decisions and I cannot tell what’s worse, to lose them or to lose myself? It is like playing one particular day over and over again, running errands everyday but without a life. My body isn’t tired, it is the mind. That damn mind.