Read Online I Don't Want to Be Crazy by Samantha Schutz - Free Book Online Page B

people think
if I were to start spinning with my arms spread
wide?
Regardez, elle est complètement folle!
A lunatic on drugs, probably.
My greatest accomplishment here is not caring,
letting go of other people’s opinions.
I am not wound as tight.
I can let go,
just no spinning yet.
    Everyone is all smiles
and kisses today in the park.
I am in the corner with my journal and CD player
just loud enough to hear the water
coming from the fountain and a few muffled voices
speaking another language.
I could stay in the Luxembourg Gardens forever
if I had the right person next to me
for conversation.
Even the pigeons are dancing, kissing,
going in circles, mounting each other.
Paris is the city of love,
even for the birds.

iii.
    All of the students in our program
go to Provence for the weekend.
After a day of sightseeing
we are at our hotel,
sitting around rough wooden tables,
drinking wine and laughing,
when I feel panic surge through my body.
My breathing gets off track
and when I ask for water,
I know I am in trouble.
That’s the first sign
that this is not going to get better.
    My eyes are darting around the room
wondering who can tell that I am freaking out
and just like that, I need to leave.
It doesn’t matter
that they haven’t served dinner yet.
It doesn’t matter
that I was sitting with my friends.
All that matters is that I have to get out
to make this stop.
    I tell everyone that I am tired
and go back to my room.
I try getting into bed and falling asleep,
but that doesn’t work.
I am too frantic.
There is no TV, no radio,
nothing to distract me.
I am freezing cold
even though the weather is pleasant.
    I take a hot shower
to take away the chill
and calm the creeping feeling
that is going through my chest.
I sit on the shower floor
and let the water pour over me
as I rock back and forth, crying,
staring at the tiles on the wall
and wondering what I did to deserve this.
    The steam makes me feel like I am choking
and I am worried that the bathroom door is locked
and if I die in the shower,
no one will be able to get to me.
I cannot do this alone.
    I cannot die alone.
I must swallow any pride I have left,
put on clothes and shoes,
and get the one person
I can cry in front of,
the one person who will leave anywhere
on a moment’s notice
because she knows.
    I gather myself up
and head out the door.
It’s too dark
and I hate this place.
I hate being here
and there she is,
having fun,
talking, drinking, eating,
having a life—
a normal life.
Rebecca looks beautiful and normal
and I am going to interrupt that.
I lean down and whisper in her ear.
I try not to look at anyone else
in case they get a glimpse
of how insane I am.
    She puts down her napkin.
And that is it.
No questions.
She’s done this before
and we both know
she’ll do it again.
    I cannot stop crying and shaking.
Rebecca wants to know what to do for me.
I tell her I feel like I can’t breathe,
so we walk outside, down a path
with perfectly manicured hedges.
I feel like I can’t control my limbs
and the sound inside my head is like a tornado.
I want to cover my ears,
but I know the sound is deep inside.
    I have a moment of clarity
as we are walking.
For the first time I understand
the concept of suicide.
I can understand the feeling
of wanting it to stop
and being willing to do
whatever it takes
to make sure that happens.
    We go back to our room
and Rebecca gets into bed with me.
I ask her to distract me,
so she tells me stories
about people she grew up with.
She even gets me to laugh a little.
Hearing her voice—
hearing something besides the thoughts
ripping through my mind—
is calming.
    I just need to put a little space
between me and the panic.
I need a little bit of calm
so I can get a grip
and hold on to something,
to pull myself up
and out.
    The next morning,
I am as tired as if I hadn’t slept.
I feel hungover and stiff.
    The entire day I am walking a fine line
between normal and crazy.
I drink water constantly
to make sure I won’t pass