My Day In My Life

As I looked up, the sky was dark the sidewalk illuminated by the streetlights. The sound of crickets and cars echoing through my ears. I walked home that night, tears in my eyes. I was leaving, I couldn’t handle it anymore. The meds, doctors, psychiatrists nothing was working, our lives were in constant danger. By the time I got home the car was gone. By the time, I finished packing it was dawn. The sun creeping in through the shutters. For the next couple of days, I crashed at Jason’s before I headed South. I heard my cell ringing, it was mom… I let it go to voicemail.

Morning arrived yet this time with a cheerful face of my mother and my healing brother’s smile. For the first time, this felt like home exactly, the way we lived 2 years back with warmth and happiness echoing in our house. I almost forgot the comfort of sitting on a couch or laying on a bed beside my mother. The aroma of her devouring food filled the house and the riddles of my ever loved brother never stopped, now, I had no need to keep track of

My hospital bed was ice cold and the bleak and empty white walls depressed me as the uncomforting thought that I would have to stay here for maybe another week brought tears to my eyes. The usual and oppressive smell of disinfectant lingered in the room as I recalled that night in my head, trying to convince myself it wasn’t my fault, as I had done everyday since the accident. It was the day everything changed and my life was turned upside down. Forever.

I sat in the common area as the other patients colored and played cards. What they were doing didn’t really matter to me, I just wanted to be alone. I’d always feel like I was drowning, so it came to me as a surprise to me when the nurses told me that if I were breathing, I was winning. At night I’d lay on the blue plastic mattress and miss my room and everything it stood for. The blue lights that are strung along my bed, illuminate my nights. The pictures of the one I love line my walls, they are the barrier that protects me from the rest of the world. The blue plastic mattress draped in thin white sheets stood for the cold empty feeling I couldn’t get rid of. My nights were full of my thoughts bombarding my

I watched as my family said goodbye as a I lay in my hospital bed, breathing raspily. I told them that I loved them. I tried to reach out for my mother’s hand, but was stopped by the short slack of all the tubes and wires connected to me. She comes closer so she can hold my hand, so she can comfort me in my last moments.

Last December, I came home from practice to find my mother on the floor of the living room, hardly breathing. I dropped to her side, begging her to tell me what was wrong, and she whispered that she was having a heart attack. Upon hearing that, my actions became erratic; I was hyper-aware of my heart, of time, of the phone I could not keep still in my shaking hands as I called for help. After waiting in painful apprehension, two paramedics would walk in, put my mother on a stretcher, and carry her out. I would give them her prescription medicine and wrote down the name of the hospital she would be going to. Then, they would take her away, and I would be alone in a house of utter silence. Something about the silence allowed me to ruminate over

I buried my face in the pillow on my freshly made bed and sobbed, the fabric of the pillowcase soaking up the water like a sponge. It felt as if someone was wiping away my tears, calming me. I heard a soft knocking on my door, closing my eyes, I tried to will the door to stay shut, but it didn’t.

The day was August 1st, 2013. Summer was coming to an end and fall was close at hand. However, on this particular day, I paid no mind to the changing season. Hundreds of people strolled the hospital hallway, their voices echoing the long pale corridors like distant hums. Despite the outside chatter, my room encompassed a certain stillness. I had always associated stillness with serenity, but this stillness was made up of apprehension, hopefulness, and most notably, fear. As I sat on a bed meant for sick patients, I looked around the small confines of the white room to my family. Within each of them I saw panic; I saw the fear of losing me. After what seemed like a lifetime suspended within a cruel dream, the doctor finally entered the room.

I waited until late, when I knew my parents were asleep. I tiptoed down the hall, approaching the front door. I could hear my dad snoring in the master bedroom, fast asleep with my mother. I grabbed my bag, sliding a bottle of my sleeping pills inside and zipping it up. I tossed one strap over my shoulder and slipped out into the night. I ran until I couldn't run any longer. I didn't stop until I saw the world fading away behind me, a blur of melancholic, cool

The night was long and restless , I gave Karen the sofa , I took the uncomfortable wooden chair . When I would doze off a nurse would come in to check on my dad , waking me up instantly . The morning was here , dad had awoke speechless just looking all around . I held his hand , feeling it shake from being scared .

I was so beat and drained, attempting to keep my eyes open as I scrolled through my news feed was a struggle; for my eyelids suddenly became steel anvils. My whole body was drunk and fatigue after a long afternoons work, cooking borderline Chinese food for borderline healthy customers. Slowly fading off I drop my phone besides me and roll around, trying to find the comfy spot in my mattress that always seems to be playing hide and seek. Finally managing to find him I give One last inhale of oxygen and drift into the sea of the subconscious; my dreams.

As I was getting in the car I felt like I had lead feet, and on the way to school my mom drove so fast I couldn’t even see the trees as we passed them. We reached the school and as I walked in the heavy front doors to the loud hallways, my stomach was churning. I kept my head down the whole way to my locker, trying to block out the noises from all the other kids reuniting with their friends. The morning of boring classes went by slowly and finally the bell rang for lunch.

“Time to get up!” My dad told me as he leaned in my door. I was already up but still lying down. “Ugh!” I groaned. I did not want to get up today. Out of all the days, this one was not the one. The night before I had a dream about my doctor already put on my braces but I knew that wasn’t real when he started asking for my autograph. By this time, it had already been 5 minutes that I wasted. I slumped out of bed and walked over to the bathroom slowly. I smiled one more time and took it all in. I got dressed and

I woke up feeling like death. My bones were cracking as I started to stretch and my blood flow started to slow down. It was like I was amputated. I turned my body to the right, looking at my clock. As usual, my alarm didn’t wake me up. The white light poured in, even before I started to move and variety of intriguing sounds outside, all too in the early morning. Close by my bed was bottle of Peralta’s Best Booze, which was empty and an empty and small ash tray smelling like shit. I started to stroll to the bathroom; getting a clean face and feeling fresh. The rusty faucet started to leak.

What a beautiful day. Sun’s out, flowers are all bloomed, boys playin’ baseball at the ballpark across the street. Today just couldn’t be better. I see those boys and I can’t help remembering what could have been. I am now 73 but when I was younger, I was a natural ballplayer. Baseball was my life. I would get compliments almost daily of how well I’d played the night before. It was my life. Suddenly in the middle of nowhere I seemed to be growing younger! The world around my was changing! As all this was happening I walked down to the ballpark. I was my 12 year old self! My old buddies, most of whom had now passed away, were playing. “Ryder! What’s up man?” Julian said. I was so startled that it was actually him I was nearly brought to tears. After a warm welcome from my buddies, Jackson tossed me a bat and told me I was up at the plate. I stepped into the box, I could smell the dirt, the grass, everything. It was so wonderful. I picked up some dirt, rubbed it on my hands and was ready to go. Jackson came set, ready to deliver the first pitch I’d seen in the last 50 some odd years. He lifted his leg, pulled his arm back, and strode towards home plate. The ball left his hand, I could see every seam, every dirt mark on that ball. I started my motion, the ball was right there. All I could focus on was hitting that dang ball.