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“You put your cigarette out on my face.”

Post Malone

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It’s cold. The blankets are thin. I’m losing hope. The silence is deafening.

Tick tock, tick tock, my time is running on a clock. One two, three four, I’m always left wanting more. My existence is vanishing. I can feel my life dwindling every day my skin sheds. Blood bleeds, breath leaves, if only I could stay young forever. I want to be full of everlasting radiance.

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Life Line (1)

When we met it seemed as if there was an instant connection. As if a chorus and separate verses found each other to compose the most lyrical of songs. He appreciates life’s finest moments of spontaneity. I’ve gotten to know Colton Evergreen better than I’ve ever been able to know any other person in my lifetime. I’ve seen him grow wise beyond his years, to become someone who doesn’t pay attention to the latest trends or who doesn’t conform to the out of balance mainstream expectations on today’s youth. It’s incredible how genuinely himself he is. To take the time to understand why someone or something is the way it is without prejudice. He’s taught me more about myself than I’ve learned on my own for the past 7 years in Tennessee. He knows how to read people. In this case, he especially knows how to read me.

Before my family just recently moved up north, Colton and I would traditionally, eat at the most mediocre places in town. One particularly humid spring day I was meeting him for Chinese. My dad had offered to give me a ride in his clanky, somewhat broken down, red truck and I took the offer. As we drove my eyes scanned the street for my favorite person. I saw him walking as the rain began to fall, desperately clinging his worn down skateboard to his side, in attempt to shelter the griptape from potential water damage. I quickly hopped out of the truck at stop sign, and decided to try to jump scare him. I shouted as I took him in embrace after sneaking up behind him. Colton being completely thrown off as expected, “Shit! Why do you always do this to me?” He laughed before throwing his wet arm over my shoulder. I’ve always been fascinated by the way he looks. Let alone, in the rain. Small droplets of water collected on the matted down chocolate curls on the top of his head. Those of droplets which would land on his also curly eyelashes would only magnify the brightness of the brown orbs he inherited from his mother Raina. “I’m not sure, I’ve missed you.” I grinned.

I’m not afraid to truly smile around him unlike myself around the usual selective bunch of people I’d talk to. This evening seeing Colton, I was nervous about the literal storm that was brewing. He knew this. He always knew these things of me. He took my hand as we ran the rest of the way to the restaurant through the now pouring rain. “Can we sit at this table?” I wanted to sit by the window, but Colton had an opinion about these types of things. “That table is next to the door, I know you’ll get cold from the wind when people are coming in and out of here.” He was right. We took a seat closer to the the back of the restaurant. I heard thunder booming from outside. I felt myself getting more fidgety, I had to ignore it. I hate storms. I hate thinking about large amounts of water being capable of drowning others in hurricanes, or the idea of getting struck by lightning. Not to mention I tend to notice how familiar the loud crashing noises resemble the ballad of my brain whenever anxiety strikes. “So what did you do today?” He interjected my thoughts. “I only read.”/ “Read what?”/“Go Tell it on the Mountain.” I diverted my eyes away from him. He couldn’t get the hint that each one of his questions I had to answer put more and more weight onto me. The air was seemingly getting thicker as I spoke. “Who’s that by?” He asked. “James Baldwin.” I was speaking timidly. I look up to his caramel colored face. He had a natural glow about him. He traced his thumb over the back of my hand. “Diane, the storm isn’t going to hurt you.” He spoke softly with certainty, but the throbbing feeling in the frontal section of my brain thanks to the work of my amazing amygdala still didn’t seem as if I were convinced.

The storm was getting louder along with my thoughts as the waitress took our order. Colton ordered for me, at this point my body was trembling. He goes out of his way to understand exactly how I’m feeling whenever something appears to be off. I’ve explained to him what it’s like when I feel it getting bad. How in order to distract my mind from the most horrible thoughts of self-loathing I’d project images in my head of horrific things, such as being stuck on a sinking ship, or getting trapped and carried away by a river current. Water really hits home for my anxiety for some reason, which is why thunder/lightning storms are such a pain. Once our food came I could hardly eat. The rain had calmed down by now, but my body hadn’t. It’s actually quite painful to not allow tears fall out of my eyes, I was struggling to do so. The restaurant was almost silent aside from the noises coming from the kitchen and faint Asian music in the background. Colton was scanning my face. “Do you want to go?” he asked. I hate doing this when we’re together. I hate how I haven’t yet figured out how to limit the ability that my anxiety takes over. He assures me that it takes time to become better at dealing with this kind of thing. Although I feel as if there’s already been so many neglected years. “Sure.” I admit quietly.

“D, I’m going to need you to breathe, breathe. I’m right here. Diane please look at me.” Despite his vigorous efforts it was almost impossible for me. The street lights were blinding, the sounds of people’s shoes smacking the ground each step were overwhelming, and cars were driving by seemingly more rushed than usual. I was losing it, panting quicker and quicker by the minute trying to attain some kind of breath. It was fast, too fast. I thought to myself ”I’m going to throw up.” Colton took me into a tighter embrace. We were in between a couple of buildings on Broker Highway where people wouldn’t see us after I fell on the ground 5 minutes prior in actual fear that I was going to die. “Listen to me, you’re okay. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I got you. Just focus on my voice.” He was speaking softly in attempt to calm me down but I could still hear the worry in his voice. He tilted my head to look up at him. Everything was blurry from the tears and the stinging mascara in my eyes but I could still focus them enough to see his mouth moving in the shapes of the words he was saying. My heart was legitimately beating out of my chest, the kind of heartbeat that gets you sweaty and lightheaded. “You’re not going to die.”/”But Colton it hurts.”/”Just breathe.” Despite how difficult this may appear his words aren’t ineffective. “Take deep breaths.” He slowly began inhaling and exhaling deeply. I was squeezing his hand trying my very best to follow. He knows what he’s doing. “D you’re my favorite person, you can’t let it win. You’re so strong. Breathe slower, you’re doing great.” His kind words were better of a distraction from my anxiety anyway. In a time where I feel the most distressed, he invents the next best procedure on his own. Depending on how severe it is it’s like he has to create a new game plan every time. “You have so many people on this planet to live for. Roxy loves you, your parents love you, Ryland loves you even if it seems like he doesn’t, he does.” My brother Ryland was mildly abusive prior to now, his loss of temper still terrifies me till this day, but that’s another story. I’m currently staring up at Colton as he speaks, now breathing slower along with my heart rate. He whispers an “I love you.” I was falling apart in his arms, and I couldn’t believe how able enough he was to stay. The prior headache and struggle to breathe had made me feel incredibly exhausted. It was now a particularly damp spring day, the rain water had made it more chilly than humid, yet Colton was still willing to keep me warm. This was my first life line.