I knew the time had to come when I had to go back to "the roof". But it was at an unexpected time. I wasn't ready to go back at all.

My mom brought the fact that Patches, my cat, was miserable without me. She was sad, she missed me so much, she wouldn't eat. She told me either I take her with me, or she goes.

It was an easy descition for my baby's sake. I sacrificed my freedom and came back to the roof. Even if Lolly wanted to, her mother didn't have a chance of gaining a fourth little kitty mouth to feed.

The week I stepped inside "the roof" for good, it was immediately filled with nothing but misery from my pissed-off mom. All week, she would be picking on me. Anything I would do, she would get mad at me. Even when I said something that sounded a different tone she would interpret it as an attitude. I was being bullied by my own mother.

One afternoon, I was very depressed despite me taking my 100 GM antidepressants already. I felt stressed and beaten up and hurt and lost and mostly alone. I wanted to make the pain go away. Even at least temporary relief would be better than experiencing another minute of pain.

I remembered the box that held a bunch of beer bottles inside the fridge.

I hid the cold container inside the black sweater I was wearing. Once I made sure no one was near my bedroom door, I removed the cap and took a chug.

It was disgustingly bitter. I made a face which I believe would be the opposite of the face everyone makes whenever they eat something sour.

After forcing myself to empty the whole thing, I turned off the lights and laid down on my bed.

What felt like seconds later, I suddenly became weightless. I felt relaxed. I felt my breathing slow down as the stress slowly dissolved into forgetfulness. Then I felt sleepy. I checked the time and saw it was around five in the afternoon. But I didn't care, sleeping felt like a good idea at that time. Drink to relax, sleep to forget.

When I woke up the next day, I was surprised I didn't have a headache. I felt nothing and that was fine with me. But as the day progressed, so did my misery. My mom hasn't finished picking on me yet and when I found enough cash for the bus, I just took off to my happy place: the public library.

I entered the library's computer room and began to type up a message for Lolly on deviant art explaining my attempt to forget my problems by drinking alcohol.

After hitting send, I updated my journal to my problems. It's a letter that explains everything to how I believe it started, to how I feel, and what it does to me.

<Note: I was eighteen and have already graduated at that time.>

~*~

To Depression,
        You might not remember me because you are inside many people's mentality, but I do know you. I am the girl you have been hiding within her head until her fifteenth birthday. That night, she was still in foster care, she had no contact with her parents, nobody sang her the birthday song, and she couldn't even call her parents on her fifteenth birthday. The fact that she was outside at night crying because she knew she will never have a quinceañera, celebrating the old Hispanic tradition of a girl transitioning to a woman, with a beautiful black dress, amazing black table centerpieces, a fancy German Chocolate cake with the little figure of her on the top, the last doll handout, and the father-daughter dance has given you the chance of snatching hope away from her hands. The next day, her therapist has found you.
    Congratulations, you've been hurting me for three years now. How do we celebrate? How about the loss of interest in the things I find peace and joy in. No? Too easy?
.
.
    To Anxiety,
        I believe you have been lingering inside my head ever since the time my biological mother has walked out of the family, leaving my older brother, younger brother, and seven year old me all to my dad. Yes, I think that's right. Because ever since then, I have been trying to take care of everyone just so they will be happy. You have given me the thought, "if they are not happy, they will only see the bad things I do and abandon me". For many years, I have been taking care of everyone that I completely forgot to take care of myself. As an 18 year old today, I still let people step all over me, I'm slowly running out of glue. Why? Because I am afraid of being abandoned by them and I'm afraid of the pain I will experience once they leave me. I get hurt by you so much but it's okay, I don't matter.
.
.
    To PTSD,
        So I guess there's no way to avoid it, I will have to send you that message. Well, here goes nothing. You have been sewn into my mentality ever since that incident. I don't even want to talk about it because I'm already wounded by your comrades. Since I was five, still in kindergarden, still an innocent little girl who wanted nothing but to run around and play and sing and dance and be a child while she still is, you have taken that away from me. Even though I am far away from that location where that incident happened, I can still feel the memory linger around my head. I can still feel his presence, I can still feel that same fear I felt when I was five, I can still try to forget this ever happened, I can still try to permanently erase that memory. You have done a good job on making my life an extreme nightmare. Let me give you a round of applause for the years you have kept me afraid of even hearing his name.
.
.

With pure regret,
Black Aura

~*~

More on the next chapter.