Author's Note: This was a personal essay I turned on on something I believe in. And, yes, a true story. I'm not looking for pity, or to be judged, because I've had enough of both. All I want is for someone to know. And understand.
Darkest time of night. No people, no sound, no color. Just me and my thoughts. An empty shell of a girl with pale skin and wide eyes, driven to vacancy by all she held within. I could almost taste the moonlight as it spilled through the cracks in the curtains. Gold and bright and everything I was not.
I could have been more dramatic. I could have bought roses, or maybe a new dress. Instead I stood before the mirror staring at the imposter I so hated. Black, like the rings around my eyes and the chipped polish on my nails. I was fading.
I had my reasons, of course. All the broken did. He was on my mind just then, all the things I'd said and the things he'd done. The way he'd held me and the way I'd pushed him away. Oh, it wasn't just that. Other things had driven me to edge. Things said...and not said. Lies. Mistakes. Regrets.
But every moment with him still played out in my mind, right down to the last goodbye. That had been four months earlier. He hadn't called. I'd given up on waiting.
And now I'd given up on everything else as well. That would have been the night. The night I would have taken my own life, with my razor in hand and my breaths coming out too staggered. That is, if the phone hadn't rung, and I hadn't answered, and everything I'd believed in hadn't changed.
The angel on the phone said hello, all velvet and perfect. Oh, I loved it, I loved it, but I hated it too, because I hadn't asked him to be there. "I just...I had a bad feeling," he said uncertainly. "I needed to make sure you were okay." First time I'd heard his voice in four months. He was breaking my heart all over again. But I believed him completely. I paused, and the razor tumbled from my grasp.
"Yeah." One word. It was shaky, like the rest of my body was. Reaching blindly for something that may not have even been there. And I saw the girl reflected in front of me.
She was smiling.
"Yeah, I'm okay," I assured him. "I'll be okay." I used the moonlight as a path to guide me to my bed. Then I crawled in, pulled up the covers, and said goodnight. Because sometimes a reminder was all that was needed.
I'm not going to lie. I don't believe in much. But after that night, when as unexpected miracle had saved me from an astronomical mistake I started to believe in a little more. Now, two years later, I'm still breathing. I'm no longer bleeding. And I believe. I believe that sometimes things happen, and we cant explain them. But maybe that's not our job. Maybe we're not supposed to know why.
I believe that the point of life is, simply, to live. And so I will.