I often thought ahead to the moment I would die, not being able to decide whether I wanted to be prepared or not. I just knew that I didn’t want to be gasping for breath. So no drowning, no being smothered by a pillow—nothing asphyxiating of any sort. Can you breathe while burning? If not, then no burning either.

This was a selfish conundrum; I shouldn’t care so little about those who love me. Maybe I was selfish. That’s an awful thing to be. There were so many more terrible things that I’d rather become.

Stop, just stop. Think about the test tomorrow. Think about how hot Asher is and how we almost kissed in the lobby last night. Well, I guess, technically it wasn’t night; 4 a.m. is already morning. It would have been my first kiss.

I felt hot. My room was cool, but it was the air-conditioned kind of cool. The air was too still, and I craved a breeze. These were the times I wish I smoked, so I could stop worrying. But I was afraid I would die of lung cancer (probably gasping) if I smoked—that would defeat the purpose of smoking to calm fears of dying, just a tad.

I battled myself all through the second year at college, counting everything, hoarding empty bottles of pop at the back of my closet, convinced that they were the strings holding my world together. It seemed that Nicole leaving so soon after Cookie’s father killing himself had snapped a wire, cracked a bolt.

It felt like there was this box in my head, this unopened box that I instinctively knew was best left untouched. That was all I knew about it, though. Nothing else. Was it unstable? Maybe. Would it explode at the slightest provocation? If it did, would the contents that burst forth be kind of bad or very bad?

No idea.

So I was just very careful with it, going to great pains to avoid touching it. And if a gossamer of thought accidentally grazed it—when I was alone and my attention had dropped for a moment and led me back to that old house with Aunty Agnes still in there, talking to her birds, I panicked and stuffed myself full of food and TV and anything else that could distract me the fuck away.

I held myself very still, waiting, waiting, and then I un-arched my toes, let out my held-in breath, moved my fingers. I was in transit, I hoped. Something had to give. Right?

Junior

November 2010