The pedals rose and fell like a wave. When the wave crested I pushed down with the toe of my chuck Taylors. After that, some force of physics I hadn't learned yet whipped the pedals back around for me to push down on again. I curled my fingers tighter around the rusted metal of the handle bars and felt my shirt beneath my arms getting wet. "Shit." I thought, I was always sweating like some 400 pound sumo wrestler. Except sumo wrestlers only wear those diaper things, so they wouldn't have pit stains. "Shit."   I thought of the day I found out my mom was pregnant with my little brother, Liam, and I begged her o give the baby back to god.  'Won’t he be happier playing with all the other little babies in heaven?" I asked. I had it set in my mind that heaven was like a doctors waiting area, a place to collect yourself before you went in and when you came out of life on earth. "No sweetie pie,' she said. (She was big on pet names) "He’s a gift, and he'll be happier with us." My mom didn't take very good care of that gift unfortunately and I was thankful now Liam was old enough to use a phone he could call me when he was in trouble. I had one of those chunky beepers from the 90's and when someone paged me, I ran. This time one of mom's bum boy friend’s had left Liam alone in a park while he went and got high. When things got bad Liam and I found an island, a little place separate from the rest of the world where we could hide and pretend to sip fancy drinks with those paper umbrellas. I wondered how long it would be until Liam realized it wasn't all just a game. Getting to the park I dropped the bike and started frantically searching for Liam, as if didn’t find him fast enough he would drown. I spun in a circle wondering where his island would be. Finally I spotted him, though even when I stopped turning the world continued blurring around me. I wiped the tears from my eyes and walked toward where he was sitting with his eyes closed, up by the slide. A mother was trying to coax him down, thinking he was scared. He rocked back and forth and I held on to the bars of the play ground with him, trying to steady our lives. “Tess,” he whispered with his eyes still closed “I can hear the sea gulls.”

how can you be so broken at 15? that you need to be in a mental hospital? how can you already be wishing you were never born? How can you already have PTSD that brings flashbacks and nightmares so severe you’re scared to close your eyes at night? This is not an after school special. or some twisted horror story. this is real life.

strapped into a stretcher I am dizzy thinking about how I am being wisked away from all I know, to a place with no locks, no shoe ties. plastic orange straps hold me down as I make small talk with the EMT and watch the world shrink into the distance.

I can see the highway when I stand next to the window and it makes me sad. the calm action of driving down the road, the freedom to turn around, go back. The way a thing the many people take for granted, do on auto pilot could become a life or death situation in an instant. the uncertainty of something so predictable. life.

leaving the unit is a gift- being able to stretch our legs, not stare at the same blank walls. the staircase to the main hospital floor is overshadowed by a sky light that makes it seem like a heavenly place, with artistic green bars rising from the railing- a barrier so we can’t jump.

watching the face of aaliyah watch the movie “A Cinderella Story” (A modern version of the classic) I feel my heart grow heavy. The blue light of the television illuminates the longing in her face as the main character dances with her prince  while we sit in a mental hospital, aaliyah looking disheveled and lonely, dreaming of a happily ever after.