I'm (not) Okay

“Life would be better off without me in it. No one would even miss me.” 

After both Grandpappy and Grammy passed on, life has taken a worst turn. Everything changed. No more being the silly goofball I used to be. I became a new person. Depression has painted his shade a darker color. I spent my days locked away behind a closed door, blasting music on full volume to drown out my thoughts. Mom would check in now and then, but I played the tune every time: "I'm okay.” 

Some days the internal pain became too much to bear; I would outweigh it with physical pain—the best feeling ever. 

Dad was the first to disappear. I last saw him the day mom gave birth to Christian. I heard them arguing the night before. Mom cried as he shouted at her and told her he's not ready for another child. When he walked away, he stopped providing for me altogether. At least he had the balls to leave. Something must've told him what a disappointment of a daughter he would have. But I know he would've loved Christian—the little boy who always saw the colorful side of life. 

Every morning, I woke up, feeling repulsed. I hated the way I looked. I was ugly. I was fat. I looked like a cow. Hell, I bet cows were better looking than me. So, if you haven’t seen a fat, ugly cow before, look no further. 

To disguise myself, I hid behind a messy bun and baggy clothes. I usually got compliments on how I looked, but I knew what they were really thinking: "You look like pig shit.” 

I started slacking in my schoolwork, and my teachers picked up. They would talk to me, but my marks kept dropping. So, the principal had no choice but to contact my mother. She was so upset when she heard. She started crying. She pleaded with me to tell her what's wrong, but I kept mum. She didn't need to know. Once we got home, she immediately picked up her phone and booked an appointment with our local therapist. 

After a few sessions, I had started feeling slightly better. But I was still in that slump, and soon I was back to square one. Therapy no longer helped. 

All through this rough patch, there was one person who still made life easier—my best friend, Eliza. We spent a lot of time together. She knew how to cheer me up if I was not myself. On some days, I acted fine, for her sake. Life seemed better knowing she was happy. 

In my first year of high school, a group of older boys used to bully me, and it only got worse once they noticed the cuts on my arms. But Eliza jumped in and set them straight. They never bothered me again. 

There was a time in the cafeteria when I tripped over my own two feet. I was covered in spaghetti and yogurt. The room went quiet. Everyone looked at me, waiting for my next move. I could hear muffled laughter. A guy came over to help me, but I shoved him away and sped out the cafeteria and into the nearest door—the boys’ bathroom. I locked myself in one of the stalls and stayed there for the remainder of the school day. I was the first one out of the door when the last bell of the day rang. 

And now, I lay on my bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling. Music on full blast. But this time around, it wasn’t to drown out my thoughts, but to make whatever happened next easier.  

Life would be better without me in it. I would be reunited with Grammy and Grandpappy again. 

Grammy was first to go. Grandpappy’s heart was shattered. He couldn't live without her. It was only a matter of time.

Mom had to start working two jobs to provide for us. Even though she didn’t receive a big inheritance, it was enough to keep us going for a little while. Mom got the house too, with no extra expense. When dad left, he left mom with nothing. He had mom sign a prenup before they got married, leaving her with nothing. All she had left was us.

After the divorce, Grammy and Grandpappy insisted that we move in with them. I was so excited! It would be like a never-ending sleepover.

By now, it's been almost a year since they left. The house was quiet, and even though mom had struggles, no one went to bed hungry. But I knew once I'm gone, things could go better, and mom wouldn't have so much on her plate. She would only need to provide for herself and Christian.

I got the idea when I was home alone. Mom was working a late shift, and Christian was at a friend's house for the night. I grabbed mom’s prescription pills downstairs this afternoon, after school. Looking at the bottle, I weighed the pros and cons.

“A few of these, and everything would be better,” I thought to myself.

The tears fell as I picked up my notebook, reading the letter I wrote addressed to mom. She deserved to know why I did this. I apologized for being a miserable and useless daughter to her. She deserved better than me.

“Christian will be the child I never could be for you.  

Thank you for everything.  

Love, Cam.”  

The bottle of pills stood next to the notepad. I grabbed my phone and opened the contact profile; I knew I deserved one last goodbye. Opening her contact, I started typing. I thanked her for her friendship. She was the only person I could really open up to. I promised to be her guardian angel and always protect her wherever she went. If it weren't for her, I'd be long gone. 

“I love you with my entire heart. I wish you nothing but the best in life.  

See you on the other side.”  

I switched off my phone once the message was delivered. Through all my weird mood swings, she stuck to my side and gave life some real purpose. I couldn't have her stop me from doing this.

I had to do it. I needed to relieve everyone from the hold I had on them. I opened the bottle and popped a handful of pills in my hand. I closed it back up and placed the bottle next to the letter again.

There's no turning back after this. By the time anyone finds me, I'd be gone. Tears rolled down my face as I slowly brought my hand to my mouth.

My earthly plane would soon be done.

Goodbye mom. Goodbye Christian. Goodbye Eliza.

You’ll soon be rid of me forever. 

Grammy and Grandpappy, here I come.

“Cameron?” I heard my name. Someone was downstairs. What are they doing here?  

Rushed, heavy footsteps sounded as they made their way upstairs. It came to a halt in front of my door. The door swung open, revealing mom. Her face looked flushed; make-up was slightly smudged.

"What are you doing home?” I asked.

"Eliza called,” she replied. Scanning me from top to bottom, she noticed my fist filled with pills. "Why?” I stared at her and noticed how scared she seemed.

I kept quiet, not sure if I should say anything. "Cameron?” mom voiced.

“Because mom, I can't keep lying to myself or to you and say that everything is okay, when in reality it's not,” my voice cracked. “After Grammy and Pappy died, life became too much to bear. I know it's stupid that I depended on them my entire life, but they were all I knew. And losing both of them in a span of months made things harder. I am constantly depressed and filled with anxiety. I try to cope, but I can't. Saying I'm a burden to everyone is an understatement. I am worse. I have failed—not only as a person, but as a daughter, sister, role model, and also best friend. When people look at me, I know what they're trying to say. I am a waste of space. I'm holding everyone back.”

“Who told you all this? Is that what you think of yourself?”

“When Grammy and Pappy died, it's like two parts died with them. The colorful life I once had soon seemed dull. I felt stuck. Life once felt unique, but no more. You and Christian will be able to build a better life.”  

Mom stared at me. 

“Most of the time, I've acted like a complete asshole to you, and now I want to fix that,” I said, looking at my fist. "Please, allow me the chance to finish what I started.” 

As I once again brought my hand to my mouth, mom spoke. “Cameron,” mom started. “Is this really what you want? You'd be selfish if you did this. Eliza called me the minute she received your message. She's scared of losing you. We both are. When your therapist first reached out to me and told me about your severe depression, she advised that I wait on you to approach me. If you came, we could have fought this battle together. Fight it. Imagine how hurt Christian would be if he knew he wouldn't see his sister anymore.” 

As soon as mom mentioned Christian's name, I thought of what the future would like for him. He would have no one to turn to if something's wrong. Who would he go to for advice when he had a fight with his girlfriend? Who would be there to protect him? I would be hurting him, Mom, and Eliza.

I gasped.  

I broke down in tears as I fell to my knees. I was about to hurt the most important people in my life. I could have put my brother through the same pain.  

“Mom,” was all I could say as the tears fell. My mom ran to my side and embraced me in her arms. “Shh, it’s okay,” she said, as she kissed the top of my head. We quietly sat for a while before a soft tap at my door had us both looking up.  

“I’m glad to see you’re still with us,” Eliza said, with a smile on her face. I smiled at her appearance. Mom gestured her over and had her replace her spot. "I'll give you guys some time alone,” she said, and she closed the door behind her as she left. "I'm sorry,” I mumbled. Eliza shushed me and ran her fingers through my hair.  

The recovery process started, and it was dragging, but mom, Eliza, and Christian helped to make things easier for me to get through each passing day. I stopped locking myself in my room. My life was starting to get back its color. Life started to feel unique once more.  

Even though my mental health tanked from time to time. I didn't need much to be brought back. I'm thankful to mom for coming at the right moment. We try to look past the little hiccup and move on. I never had thoughts again and had a different outlook on life.  

Always remember, there's always someone out there who's happy you exist!