I sit on my bed, my arms wrapped around my knees rocking back and forth. Tears are pouring down my face. This happened last night, yet I can remember and feel every detail because it was just a night repeated many times. The feelings are so strong that I rock back and forth faster and harder. Maybe hoping that the rocking will make the tears go away, disappear.

I pick up the phone, desperately needing to hear a friend’s voice tell me I’ll be okay. I reach for the phone, all the while trembling, and stop to think for a minute. There is no one to call. I throw it across the room and look around my room for something sharp to put into my skin, and then decide against it. It would hurt my mother too much.

I jump out of bed and throw myself up against the wall. But it doesn’t help. I am still here. My feelings are still here. It doesn’t help. I throw myself onto the bed again desperately clutching my pillow. I feel as if my body is going to burst because I am crying so hard. Too hard to stop. I start to write but I can’t see the pages. I can’t see the words.

I look into the mirror and see someone. Is it me? Yes, I am there. I recognize this face. It’s been there too many times not to. I start to think about running away, but I’m not sure how to do it. So, I tell myself to ask Tara in the morning because she will know, will understand. Slowly the tears die down. I am too tired to hurt myself, too tired to sit up any more.

I start falling asleep. I do. Very easily as if nothing had happened. But it has. It was real. I can feel the puffiness of my eyes. I can’t breath through my nose and my face is tight with dried tears. It was real. I fall into a sleep. A deep sleep with too many dreams. I can’t keep track of all of them. I wake up in the morning. I wake up late, not wanting to get up. I do, and drag myself to volleyball practice where I see tired, but happy people. How could this be? Slowly, I feel parts of happiness come into me. It slowly rises and settles. It never completely takes over. There’s still that lump in my body left from last night and the many nights before.

Slowly the day continues, and I realize it could not stop just for me. Only I could stop it for me. The day goes on and the feelings are still with me. Sometimes I feel really great and – boom – it hits me. Sometimes so hard and strong. Days go by. Weeks. Months. I slowly feel life come back into me. I feel my old self. All I can think is, I’m here! I’m back again! It’s me. My counselor thinks so, everybody thinks so. I begin each day and make it through that day. Life isn’t the best, but it’s better.

Then slowly it again slips from me. Maybe I wasn’t holding on tightly enough or maybe I was just fooling myself. I can sense the same feelings as before. They are back. I try so hard to push them away. The answer to pushing them away are my tears. They are back. I sit on my bed with my arms wrapped around my knees rocking back and forth. I pick up the phone, but I already know the answer. The night is back.