Winter Break

By, Aaron Schmidt

I stared at my pills in disdain; thin chemical antidotes to the thing pillaging my brain. It was like

I was swirling around the depths of a toilet bowl; like I was gasping for air as currents lapped

relentlessly over my panic in a never ending cycle. Quite metaphorically, I felt like shit. But life

had worked without them before. Somewhere along the line, I was able to access a mental plane

beyond apathy and misery - there was a broader range. But as my therapist told me, the irony of

being not-sad is you have to feel better in order to get the motivation to be better. So, the

conclusion was, to stop. Stop ignoring the pills. They are a part of me. They work for me.

There was prudence in taking them again They help me to feel better so that I can do the dirty

work of staying better; suspend myself somewhere above rock bottom so that I could find

footing somewhere within my cerebral confusion.

I watched a little more carefully, because I could understand finally how he felt when he talked

about killing himself. Because, breathing was hard, and eating was hard, and sustaining the

force that induced such an endless array of panic was frankly pointless. Living seemed pointless.

I wanted to stay screwed in the head for one second more so that I could feel sorry for myself

instead of feeling sorry for him.

It began on New Years. I had packed an overnight bag to stay at Bennetts house where we

would celebrate with his ex-roommate, Ryan. The began in a way most New Years celebrations

probably start. I wont say with what, but Ill leave you to your deductions. Later in the night,

we lit fireworks, and went to a party. It was a milieu of nonsensical joy. It was nice and fun and

simple. All of my concerns were slippery in my mind, easily obscured by the moment. But it all
came to a crashing halt at curfew. One PM and my mom had initiated a request that we be back

to the house.

We had been quarreling over timing for a while. But he was inept at dealing with the restrictions

any longer. Silence ensued for a day. We didnt speak, he wouldnt look at me, and when we

finally talked, it was the finale. I didnt know what to say. Transportation was an issue, my

mental health was an issue, his mental health was an issue, sacrifice was an issue; it was all an

issue. Around potential hospital stays, and a wavering slowly beating heart, there was little other

conclusion that couldve been done. And perhaps it couldve been fixed. But thats not how

Bennett works, and I was tired of being subjected to a sudden halt. In his mind, there was no

viable solution. I was tired of questioning myself. It wasnt my fault. It just wasnt working.

Yet, we were both ambivalent about what to do. The feeling was vague.

Time, I said. We just need to take some time.

An end is inevitable and that is easy. There is an assurance in temporary. The difficult part is

assuming the break up as a mistake, because youve had time since then to become anew; to pick

the pieces up and resume an identity where the hole they left was. You dont notice how much

you give yourself to someone else until theyre gone, and take an element of those past few

months with them. And with you, you take pieces of them that cant be used anymore. Its not

allowed. You can only lament them The hope of new ones ought to be assumed as false hope

because when it doesnt meet those expectations, its heartbreaking. All of it is heartbreaking.

And doing it over again? Is heartbreaking, confusing, scary. Its the bravest possible jump and
the most impulsive. All of my instincts are to stay far away from the rosy lips of temptation.

They make me sad now. Im in love, maybe, with the past, of what may be. Its not easy to

make a decision of yes or no. Its not easy to put aside pain. Its not easy to allow yourself to

feel it alone.