Loving Madness

1. One Stupid Deer

Comfortably Numb- Pink Floyd

I wasn't always this way. Oh, sorry I guess I should tell you what way I'm talking about. I mean crazy. Bonkers, mad, out of my fucking mind. This story might be a little jumbled, and a bit scatterbrained, because of the person writing it. This is the only way I can keep things straight in my head. By writing them down during the few times my mind is right. Ha, right. I have to warn you. I will get sidetracked and off-topic a lot, but the doctors say as I recover, things will become easier to differentiate in my head. Between things that are real and aren't. Between actual events and those, my mind conjures up. Just wanted to make that clear before I began. Now, where to begin? Ow. The beginning makes my head hurt. But the doctors said... Anyways, here we go.

Have you ever heard someone say- One thing can change your whole life? No matter how insignificant it may seem at the time.

Well, it's true. And mine was a deer. Yes, a fucking deer. My change was not for the better either. Not beneficial in any way, shape, or form. Ruined my life I would say.

It all started with a car drive on a crisp autumn day.

Harmless enough right?

Okay, that is enough of my commentary. The doctor said to write it exactly how I remember it and I don't remember it with commentary. At least I don't think so...

I sit in the backseat of our metallic red, convertible Mustang, with the wind whipping through my long, dark hair. My eyes are closed, enjoying the combination of the sun and the wind.

I open my eyes to study the carefree faces of the only two people in this world I'm sure I love.

They adopted me when I was 7. My real parents were horrible. My mother was a drug addict and my father was an abusive drunk. After being sexually abused by my mother's lover and coming to school with bruises the size of grapefruits, the school finally called DHS. Through the system, I went. Until coming to them I had lost hope.

So I guess you can see my psychiatric problems didn't start with the deer. Not to mention both of my biological parents suffered from many common mental illnesses. Bipolar, clinical depression, schizophrenia, and probably more that doctors didn't even have a name for. In other words, they were fucking crazy.

My father is tapping his finger against the wheel, I'm guessing in time with some song, but from where I was sitting the music was lost in the breeze. His bronze hair flicking slightly around, due to the over usage of gel products. Every once in a while I'd get a whiff of his overpriced and cheaply made cologne. He always wears those famous dad sweaters and the faded, bootcut jeans. By watching the drumming of his fingers, I could tell it was one of those 80's rock songs. My mother had her eyes closed and her head leaned into the back of the headrest. The only indicator that she was awake was the smile that, even in the worst of times, was never far from her face. Her blonde hair is styled in the same way it has been since I've known her. The big waves turned back making a sort of halo around her face.

It was my 16th birthday and I had simply asked to go on a family ride. Down a country road that wasn't far from my house. It was my fault. The whole damned thing.

Calm down.

The doctors say none of it was my fault. It was a freak accident. Nothing more.

I begin to lean forward to say something to my mom. I believe it was something along the lines of I love you, but my words catch in my throat as I see a deer dart out in front of the car. It freezes in the headlights. The sun had begun to set and my dad had just turned on the headlights. It wasn't very big but I could tell it could do a lot of damage to this convertible. My father swerves and I hear a sharp intake of breath from my mother. If we had been on a regular stretch of road, we might have all made it. But we were on a stretch of road that a small river winds underneath several times. We just happened to be on one of those bridges. That's when my mother began to scream. I, on the other hand, didn't register what was going on, so only a small gasp seemed to escape my lips. When a convertible goes airborne, the seatbelts seem to snap like a twig being stepped on. At least mine did. I don't know about my parent's seatbelts.

Suddenly, I was airborne. You know when you go on a roller coaster and your stomach tightens when you feel weightless? That's the feeling I'm experiencing right now. Then I hit the ground. Face down. I can't breathe. Warmth spreads across my face and I'm sure my nose is broken. After a few seconds, I manage to open my mouth and get a breath in. I heard a snap when I landed and my arm is probably broken too. But I don't feel pain yet. I can only think of one thing- my parents.

Looking back now, the last glimpse I got of my parents was a peaceful one. As good as I would've ever hoped for. But sometimes I wake up to my mother's final screams, and I have to wrap my arms around my waist to hold myself together, to keep myself from bursting into a million pieces. I try to call out but when I try to use my voice, a shooting pain runs through my chest. Broken ribs maybe. A punctured lung, who knows?

I don't know how long I lay there until I remember my phone is in my back pocket. A shimmer of hope flashed somewhere in the back of my mind. I try to move my left arm and quickly find out which arm is broken. I let out a cry of pain but I have to get help. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that if my parents were in any good condition, they would already be looking for me or shouting. Something.

Using my other arm, I slowly inch toward the phone in my back pocket.

Hope is one of the most devastating feelings one can experience. It makes you think something good is coming and then rips everything away. Without warning, hope makes you lose your mind. Being positive is being delusional.

When I finally get it out, my worst fears have become real. No service. I lay there screaming and crying until my voice is completely gone. No one will come. We are all going to die here. At some point, I must've become delirious because I kept seeing flashing lights and hearing shouting. No one could've possibly found us. When I felt a hand shaking me, I knew my mind had cracked. Split, and ran away.

Perhaps I'm dead. Maybe it's a test. A test to get to the next life. I was never the religious type, but I've never heard of a test like this. The universe is pissed at me. I've lucked out. Lost all favor with whatever higher power there is. No. The cold of the night is chilling me to the bone. The blood from my nose is drying to my face and the pain that's now in my whole body is too brutal for me to be dead.

There, I finally got it straight. After almost three months. The story is finally complete.

Later on, I would want to be dead. I'd soon wish with all my heart and soul and mind that I was dead.

But sometimes, things happen in life. Funny things. Things that you would never expect to happen. One door closes and another door opens. I'd learned about loss early in life, but it wasn't too bad. That night and for a while after I cursed every god or higher power I could think of, yet they were still more than gracious with me. For some odd reason, they gave me the love of my life.