To The Moon and Back

𝟏𝟐 | 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭

R E D S H I F T

A shift in the lines of an object's spectrum toward the red end. Redshift indicates that an object is moving away from the observer. The larger the redshift, the faster the object is moving.

T O T H E
M O O N & B A C K

AS I POWER walk down the footpath, I feel my anger very slowly bubbling away as the Xanax takes effect. The shakes, the sweating, the jaw clenching was all slipping away into nothingness as I slow down slightly.

The cold air briskly sweeps past me and I am thankful that I wore a thick jumper, otherwise I would have frozen. I still was on a steep comedown from the molly Pandora had given me the other night. It used up every ounce of serotonin that I, frankly, do not have, and now I am suffering even more. Or more so was, because now a veil of serenity has been draped over me.

I stop abruptly on the side of the street and I watch the speeding cars. I feel a strong pull urging me to walk onto the road and be done for, like a magnet. My fucked up brain was screaming at me to go and put an end to my miserable life right here right now.

I toyed with the silver keys on my keychain before tucking them into my back pocket. I felt my phone buzz but I ignored it. It's probably just my mother asking how my session went. I don't know why she bothers because if she knows me half as well as she appears to, then she knows damn well that I can barely last five minutes in a contained space with someone like Doctor Rinn.

I felt depression creeping up on me, breathing down my neck, making my hairs stand up. Momentarily, I closed my eyes and the throbbing headache faded into nothing but a dull pain. I inhaled, preparing myself before depression invited my bipolar over, and together, they pressed their hands against my back and shoved me forward, my feet scuffing against the asphalt as I step foot onto the street and off the path.

I have almost died so many times. And when you die, there is this thing that you experience. It's called the calm. Where you are drifting away from life and moving toward death, essentially, it is like limbo. I have experienced it, multiple times, enough to remember how truly amazing it is.

It is one of the many reasons that I long for death. Because it is more euphoric than any substance, love, or life could ever give to you. You don't feel pain, in fact, it doesn't hurt one fucking bit. Of course, when you initially hurt yourself, you feel the pain, but it is quick, sharp. And then, you feel tired, so unbelievably fucking tired to the point that your eyes can't remain open anymore. For the first time ever, you feel connected to the world around you despite being lost to it.

I remember the first time I attempted suicide. I spent hours staring at that sharp blade, contemplating whether or not I wanted to go through with it. I had just finished secondary school and I experienced the most severe manic episode to date. Not to mention, it was one of my first.

I cut off communication with everyone, I got aggressive with my father because he tried convincing me to come to the hospital. Alula found my pills crushed up in the sink. I had not eaten in almost a week, I stunk, and. . .yeah. It fucking sucked.

Right before my suicide attempt, Alula came over and tried convincing me to look after myself and let her take me to the hospital. She said that my mother and father would be there, she said that Mercy was worried and was considering flying in. And Everly, she was so young and naïve at that time—she still is. She was just wanting to know what had happened to her brother.

In that state, it is impossible to come down from unless you are forced to because the immense amount of euphoria is even more addictive than the calm. The fucked up thing is that the entire sense of happiness, excitement, and motivation is all faux. It is a mere false sense of reality. It the bodies way of informing you that there is a chemical imbalance.