“How did I end up here?”

It’s funny how these 8 words led to the story I am about to tell you. Before we start, I want to ask you for a few favors. Everything I tell is real; believe me.  Listen… don’t interrupt. And finally, don’t judge me.

Deal?

On a cold October night, I lay in bed while my mind wandered here and there. My body was tired. My eyes were heavy. Every cell in my body told me to sleep, and I tried to. I closed my eyes but it didn’t help. I had a thousand thoughts on my mind ranging from defecation to no longer relevant career choices. Every thought brought not only images of all the people I could be and all the things I could do, but also pain, a lot of it. The pain was equivalent to that of asphyxiation. It aroused, pushed to move and simultaneously restrained by the memories of past failures. It was like I was shackled by the neck and the keys were just a few centimeters away from my face, never close enough to reach, yet always tempting to strive for. 

My body was weary. I needed sleep, but sleep didn’t come naturally. I was so desperate that I turned to the only option that could help. No, not pills. I have a bad history with them. I turned to plan. When I was a boy I had the same problem; planning worked when milk and sheep were helpless. It was my only option, so I began planning.
'Hmm… when to wake up? at 7 to get to class on time. To get to class…  there’s no class! No work anymore. There will never be work again because of what I’ve done…’ I thought.

It was the last straw.

I jumped out of bed like electrocuted. I stood beside the bed with closed eyes for a couple of seconds. I didn’t know what to do but then I recalled the breathing exercises they showed me in… it doesn’t matter, let’s not go there now. I took 10 deep breaths, opening my eyes on the 10th.

The first thing I did was look around, a bad habit from the not so old days.
There was only me, darkness and stuff disguised by it. I drew the curtains and it became bright enough to see. I inspected the room once again. Man, it’s been almost 20 years but the room didn’t change a bit. Same walls with nothing on them except for blue wallpaper, a bed, a table made of rough wood in the corner, and a bookcase with loads of books next to the door. While rubbing my nose, I noticed a copy of Ayn Rand’s the Atlas Shrugged on the second shelf of the bookcase. I never finished it, that didn’t stop me from quoting it at parties, though. I vaguely remember what happened next. I remember getting mad as hell. As if in a trance, running like an ape toward the bookcase tossing across the room as many books as I could. Deep inside I knew it was wrong; nonetheless, I still did it. That’s the thing about people. Sometimes we have the intelligence to understand but lack the power to act. I was wiping out the last row when I heard the knocks. A series of violent bangs resonated across the room, following a division of cruel yells.
‘Blank shots nothing more’
Just as I finished the thought one finally got me.
“We should’ve left there to rot!” yelled my mother whose words sting harder than any wasp. I collapsed on the floor amidst the noises and tears blurred out my vision.

I could only remember the darkness. It made me miss dreams. I couldn’t remember any after my arrival. I woke up on the floor amongst the books. My head was buzzing and I could hardly open my eyes. I lay on the floor gathering strength to get up. I attempted to lift up my head, giving in in the middle of the way, and hitting the floor. The pain was impossible to endure while lying, so  I rose to my feet, breathing out the pain along with the pieces of yesterday. While doing it I heard children play outside. I was curious if it was that blonde boy with his sister. My parents let them play in my old playground; however, after my return they were told to stay the hell away from here. I went to the window and saw the boy. He was teaching his sister how to swing. It was amusing to look at. The sight made me think about my childhood. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but there were good times. I wandered back to the long gone summer days when Kyle and I were on their place, when I sat on the porch waiting for my father to come home, when Nana, spotting the sorrow in my eyes, brought her ukulele and we sang for hours under the moonlight. My Nana… I loved her more than anything.

My gaze shifted from the window to the table. I went to the table and opened every drawer in the search of a pack of Insignia. I found a pack, an empty pack. The finding hit me hard. I shredded the box into tiny pieces, throwing the remains all over the room. I couldn’t lose it again, I was scared to. I don’t know how I managed to stop right on time…. I took a deep breath, promising myself to get a pack at whatever the cost. Going out was the only way to get them, for I was the only smoker in the house. Leaving the house would mean getting out of the comfort zone and facing the world full of mean, judging people. The craving blunted the other feelings.