Yours Truly 2016 / Cascadia College / Bothell, WA | Page 45

Gizelle
Marissa Mathews
I was sitting in the bar, waiting for my
fourth round of despair drowning vodka. I
tried not to feel bad for myself as I gulped
down that shot, ignoring how my throat felt
like it was burned all the way through to my
neck. It’s funny, because I’m not usually one
to drown my problems in Devil’s Springs .
. . but I think that’s what some people do
when they get sad.
A couple hours later that night, I found
myself alone in the passenger seat of some
man’s car. He had made a stop to pick up
some snacks, or maybe he just said that so
he could run in to grab some rubbers. Either
way, I was alone in his car, attempting to
ignore my thoughts. His center console held
2 lighters, a pocketknife, and a package of
Marlboro cigarettes. I was getting close to
being almost sober, and I wanted to grab
that pocketknife.
Gizelle, don’t do that to yourself . . . you’re
done with that, remember?
I ran my finger along the edge of it,
wanting so bad for it to be put to use. I
thought I found the bright end of the tunnel
a couple months back . . . and I thought I

was out of my depression. For a split second
of my life I thought I had been happy.
Somehow this was the third time I found
myself alone like this, not wanting to live
with myself anymore.
The man that claimed to be giving me
a ride home came back into his car and we
continued on.
I slept at his house that night, still not
knowing his name, what he does for a living,
his hobbies, nothing. He said he didn’t have
enough gas to drive me to my apartment.
I really didn’t want to sleep with him, but I
was alone . . . so maybe it was for the best.
If I was alone, I knew I would do something
that would hurt me and the people that
love me, even though the people that love
me haven’t spoken to me for 3 months. If
I wasn’t alone, I knew my morality would
empty. Both ways I was in pain, but I
knew with someone next to me I couldn’t
physically damage myself to the full extent
that I wanted to deep down.

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