Second Chance

Little Butterfly

        I remember writing a poem for English class in junior year. We had to write about how we feel about ourselves, compared to everyone else. As soon as she assigned this I was already dreading it. When I asked her how long she wanted it to be, she said as long as we needed it to be. I knew if I wrote about depression and all that other stuff people would shower me with sympathy which would drive me up a wall. I'm not an attention seeker so for all of that attention coming on me all at once would annoy the living shit out of me. But, I don't want to be fake if writing is supposed to be a way to express yourself. Also, my teacher grades really hard and if I don't answer the question I'm kind of screwed. So, I wrote this:

 I like to refer to myself as a part of nature, something that can slowly and gradually change over a long period of time.

Most days I feel like a rain drop, constantly falling, waiting for the day I'll splatter onto a cold hard pavement. 

My best days are when I feel like a mountain, powerful and tall, cutting through the open sky. 

How I feel compared to others is something completely different.

I feel like a butterfly, small, fragile, waiting to be squashed by people's voices, loud like a lion's roar.

The only difference between me and a butterfly is that I'm not beautiful. 

        So, yeah. Surprisingly that poem got a C+ but I thought it was pretty damn good. Then my English teacher kept sending me to the guidance counselor, even though I hated going. I hated her interrogating me, but I said nothing about what I was going through. I just said that I was just having a bad day when I wrote that, and it sounded good so I turned it in. But right now, I feel like a butterfly. I feel that if I disappear right now, no one is going to notice. I'm useless in this whole thing. If I'm dead shouldn't I just stay dead? Not follow people around as a ghost, when they're going to be afraid of me anyway? I should just leave, right now, and let Liam do this with Ray. All I'm doing is making things more and more complicated. I’m the reason Liam is getting himself in this mess, so I don’t really know what else to do. Maybe they can do this without me. I’m not much help anyway. I can’t even remember how I died for crying out loud! 

        I turn to walk away and I look back at Liam, and he's not even paying attention. He’s talking to Thomas I think, but I don’t think Thomas is paying attention to Liam either. Ray doesn't count because he can't see me, but Thomas almost looks petrified. Thomas is avoiding making eye contact, looking in my direction. Can he see me? 

No Maddie, don't worry about that, just walk away, I think to myself. 

        As I'm walking away, I hear the pattering if footsteps on the ground. I look behind me, and Ray is chasing after me. Can he see me now too? Can the whole world see me?

"Maddie!" He yells. Luckily there's no one else on the street so people won't look at him like a crazy man. 

“What?” I ask, the bitterness in my voice stronger than I had anticipated. 

 “Come back! We need you.” 

"Why? Why should I come back? All I'm doing is making things more complicated! If I hadn't died none of this would have happened! If I hadn’t died, you and Liam would not even be stuck in this mess that I obviously created. I’m sick and tired of being people’s problem!”  

"Maddie, that's not true. If you were a problem, do you think Liam would have stuck by you all those years? Do you think he would be doing this right now?” He asked.  

"Are you kidding me? Of course it's true! If someone is dead they should just stay dead!" I pause for a minute, regretting what I'm about to say. "Tell Liam I said goodbye." 

"Don't go!" He pleads. I wish I didn’t have to go, but if I leave now, everything will be easier, even if Liam can’t accept it at first. 

"Bye Ray." 

        I disappear like smoke, the roads of San Francisco disappearing before my eyes. And in the blink of an eye I find myself in my coffin, but I don't see the black of death as one should. Instead I find myself panting, gasping for air, my lungs burning like fire. Above me I see the rotting of wood above me, acting as a ceiling.  For the first time in for what feels like forever, I can feel my heart beating inside me. They key essential of living. That phrase pounds in my head like a hammer. 

Am I alive?

          I doubt the horror of death would give me a second chance, I should probably be in hell right about now. If there is one thing I can’t do, it’s going back to Liam and Ray, and definitely not my parents, well my aunt and uncle. They would totally lose their shit. One thing I know about them, is that they think that this kind of stuff is totally insane, unreal, and overrated, like those stupid paranormal movies. If I’m going to go back to either of them, the first thing I need to do, is get out of this goddamn coffin. 

        I kick at it, and it finally gives after 10 times of me trying to get this thing open. I push it open and I soak in my surroundings. Oh yeah, I forgot that coffins are usually buried underneath the ground. Once I claw my way through the 10 feet of solid dirt, I see that I was buried in Greenwood Cemetery. Greenwood cemetery, I think to myself, I remember my grandma being buried here when I was 12. Liam is in San Francisco, which is 8 hours away from San Diego. How am I going to get there? I can’t exactly go out like this, covered in dirt, and in desperate need of a shower. I’m sure I will figure something out.