The Last Item In Pandora's Box

I cried last night. A good long, open-a-new-pack-of-tissues kind of cry. My world crashed onto my shoulders. I could feel myself slipping.

Despair.

I could feel it creep up behind me like a long shadow after sunset. I imagined myself falling back into the depths of rock bottom, where my personal demon paces, waiting for me. I tasted despair fresh on my lips. A familiar taste, like the taste in my mouth when I wake up in the morning.

But for the first time, I tasted something else. It was subtle, just a hint, a glimmer. Had I blinked I probably would have missed it. It was the last item Pandora had in her box that she nearly forgot to let out.

Hope.

So there I was, on the hardwood floor of my room with these two paths laid out before me. It was like finally seeing a new button in the elevator. One that doesn't lead to the basement. For the first time, I actually had the means to fight that demon so longing to suffocate me. As my tongue sampled hope and my throat was clogged with despair, my mind was hit with one thought and one thought only: I'll be damned if I let this get me. This demon has trapped me many times before, without my consent and I could never do anything about it. But I'll be damned if I just sit here and let it take me when for the first time, I can stop it.

I thought of my life the past two years. I thought of everything that this demon has taken from me; my school, my happiness, my life. I thought of the girl on the bathroom floor, crying, with a shaving razor pressed to her skin, just burning for a release. I thought of each time the demon grabbed ahold of me. Each time when I was helpless. Each time when I was hopeless.

I sampled this new hope on my tongue and savored it's sweet flavor. A flavor much like the change in the air when you spot land on the horizon after being endlessly lost at sea. I have been helpless for so long, and frankly, I'm tired of it. Why continue to fight fire with your bare hands when there's a bucket of water lying at your feet?

By
Susan Vicuna