The Last Text. (Part-4)

5/5/2015

Carie : I hate it here

Sent  5:30 P.M.

Carie : There is only person of my age

 Sent 5:31 P.M.

 

Carie : Except he doesn’t talk to visitors, he just sits in his room the entire day

 Sent 5:38 P.M.

 

Carie : So there’s no way that I can have a conversation with him

 Sent 5:44 P.M

 

Carie : Please get me out of here

 Sent 7:00 P.M.

 

Carie : I’ll do anything to sleep in my own bed again

 Sent 7:10 P.M

 

Carie : Even if I were to never wake up 

 Sent 7:11 P.M.

7/5/2015

Carie : Today I read that as you die your mind replays your life as if it were repeating itself

  Sent 5:01 P.M.

Carie : And that makes me wonder if I’m actually alive right now, or if my life is simply being replayed

  Sent  5:02 P.M.

 

Carie : When will it all end?

  Sent 5:04 P.M.

 

Carie : Will my life just stop??

  Sent 5:05 P.M.

 

Carie : Maybe I’m like a cassette. The tape will wear out and finally give up just like me

  Sent 5:10P.M.

 

Carie : And then, people will throw me away with little thought, just like an old cassette I mean.

  Sent 5:11 P.M.

 

Carie : People will barely know that I am gone

  Sent 5:30 P.M.

 

Carie : And now I can’t wait for this cassette to get over

  Sent 5:54 P.M.

  

Carie : I already feel myself wearing down

 Sent 6:02 P.M.

12/5/2015

Carie : I was with the boy from room 208, the one who wouldn’t come out of his room

  Sent 5:01 A.M.

Carie : And we smoked and talked about our past

  Sent 5:07 A.M.

Carie : The boy from room 208 and I, were forced to meet by our nurses

  Sent 5:09 A.M.

Carie : It was so similar to how we met, we were forced to meet by our parents

  Sent 5:13 A.M.

  

Carie : For us, we shared juice boxes and cookies

  Sent 5:14 A.M.

Carie : For the boy and I, we shared tears

  Sent 5:17 A.M.

14/5/2015

Carie : Today I heard the boy talk to the therapist, 

  Sent 2:00 P.M.

Carie : His name is Alex

  Sent 2:03 P.M.

Carie : And guess what, he’s just like me

  Sent 2:06 P.M.

Carie : He claims to have killed someone too.

  Sent 2:12 P.M.

Carie : I got Alex’s number today

  Sent 2:35 P.M.

Carie : Because he left

  Sent 2:40 P.M.

Carie : They sent him home

  Sent 2:50 P.M.

Carie : Why not me? Am I still damaged? Have they not given up on me as yet? ‘Cause they gave up on Carter

  Sent 2:51 P.M.

Carie : He is sad. Sadder than me too.

 Sent 2:55 P.M.

 21/5/2015

Carie : Today, while I was with the therapist I discovered my worst fear 

  Sent 3:04 P.M.

Carie : She asked me what I wanted to live for? What made me happy? 

  Sent 3:05 P.M.

Carie : I thought for a long time and said Alex. Alex made me happy.

  Sent 3:19 P.M.

Carie : And then I realized my worst fear. What if Alex left me? What if he died, just like you?  

  Sent 3:29 P.M.

The Last Text (Part-3)

Click here to read Part 1
Click here to read Part 2 

 25/12/2014

Carie : Merry Christmas Danny.

Sent 12:02 A.M. 

Carie : I am the first person to wish you, as always :)

 Sent 12:03 A.M.

Carie : But you can't wish me back, because that would require you to call or text and dead people can't do that....

 Sent 12:15 A.M.

Carie : Danny? Do you say Merry Christmas to a dead person?? Is it still "merry" for them?? 

 Sent 12:18 A.M.

Carie : Shouldn't it be like "not so merry" or "un-merry", because their like dead?? I guess, dead people just don't celebrate Christmas. Anyways... 

 Sent 12:23 A.M.

Carie : I felt so weird without you this year.

Sent 12:46 A.M

Carie : My mom called your parents.

Sent 12:54

Carie : And all she could hear was them crying

Sent 12:57

Carie : I think they're still sad

Sent 1:04 A.M.

Carie : Just like me

Sent 1:05 A.M.

Carie : And my mom

Sent 1:08 A.M.

Carie : We're all sad

Sent 1:15 A.M.

Carie : I wonder if your parents drink like us

Sent 1:30 A.M.

1/01/2015

Carie : Its new year

Sent 3:00 A.M

Carie : This also marks my first birthday without you

Sent 3:13 A.M.
 

Carie : First Easter

Sent 3:14 A.M.
 

Carie : First Christmas

Sent 3:17 A.M.

Carie : First New Year

Sent 3:19 A.M.

Carie : First last day of school

Sent 3:20 A.M.

Carie : First everything

Sent 3:35 A.M.

Carie : I am so lonely

Sent 4:00 A.M.

Carie : I miss you so much

Sent 4:10 A.M.

Carie : But who knows ? Maybe I'll be seeing you soon :)

Sent 5:00 A.M.

3/1/2015

Carie : I'm sorry! I can't live with this guilt.. Why did i have to send you that text? Why did you have to reply to it??

Sent 4:00 P.M.

Carie : I am so bad. 

Sent 4:10 P.M.

Carie : I'll die for you, that way no one else will have to deal with me and mom wont be so worried anymore.

Sent 4:15 P.M.

Carie : I'll see you soon, okay?

Sent 4:30 P.M.

Carie : Hospitals are so weird. Especially when everyone is trying their best to keep you from dying when that's all you want to do.

Sent 8:00 P.M.

Carie : I'm being kept on a tight schedule, which they claim is a way to keep bad thoughts away.

Sent 8:20 P.M.

4/5/2015

Carie : It hasn't worked!!

Sent 2:37 A.M.

Carie : I want to die!

Sent 2:40 A.M.

Carie : Why wont they let me die?

Sent 2:49 A.M.

Carie : Maybe I'm already dead

Sent 3:02 A.M.

Carie : And only 'breathing.'

 Sent 3:03 A.M.

Something odd about odd numbers (Part-2)

I agree that her behavior was mostly cryptic, but there was something about her, that made her the only mystery in my life that I preferred unsolved.

She also hated stepping outside the house. There was something about the world that rendered her incapacitated, and ironically, there was something about her that made the world nervous as well. 
She ensured that the curtains were always drawn, and windows were always shut. I started using the back door to come into the house whenever I managed to get free early to avoid arguments. It wasn’t a home to me anymore. It didn’t feel like one. It was just a house.

Usually, however, I came home around half-past seven. She used to make me two chapattis and a one vegetable dish, served in two different utensils. Her behavior was not something I even pretended to understand, but I respected her enough to cooperate.

She had found her solace in even numbers, like I’d found mine in her.

Every night, we watched television. She always watched two shows together, flitting between the channels every few minutes, like a restless hummingbird. She shook like one too, shaking her right leg so fast that the entire bed vibrated under her. At the end of this entire exercise, I had no clue as to what was happening in either of the shows, but I had no ideas for a better evening. She resisted change.  In retrospect, her routine seemed almost attractive to me. Comforting.

She was oblivious to my existence sometimes, but I was in love. I had convinced myself that deep inside, she cared as much about me as I did about her.

When we finally went to bed around eleven, would tell me that she loved me exactly thirty seven times. Then, she would hesitate, and say it once again, just to even things out.  Then, she would remember that he hadn’t changed into her nightdress and she would spend another hour fidgeting in the bathroom. It left me strangely desolate in the beginning, but soon I got used to it. ‘Routine is good’, I told myself. ‘Routine is stability. She is stability.’

She used to change into her pink nightdress, but once back, she would decide that green would have been a better option. Finally having brushed her teeth twice, she would come back to the bed, where she would lie, her eyes vacant, completely oblivious to my presence. That allowed me to shamelessly stare at her face. Only, I’d decided not to. Her nonchalance was more agonizing than it was fascinating.

Sometimes, she’d kissed me. Once. Then twice. She wouldn’t stop. Or maybe, she couldn’t. It wasn’t me who was driving her. It was her inability to control her own actions.
Our nights were extremely volatile, a hint of desperation coloring the way she clutched at me, and then the sheets, before she pushed me off and stared at the ceiling, just as vacantly as before. 
I would usually get about two hours of sleep before the affect of her afternoon pills wore off.

She had been asked to take a tablet a day- 50 milligrams of valproate, but she couldn’t do it.
‘That’s all? One pill? That’s a bid odd.’

I used to chuckle at her failure to acknowledge the humor in her statement.  She was a genius sometimes, and she had all the problems other geniuses had. She was completely oblivious to the fact. And maybe, she was simply confounded by herself, because she did exceptionally well at what she couldn’t help doing.

We had to specially order pills worth 25 milligrams each so that she could have two of them.
‘This is much better. A single pill wouldn’t have made me feel right. The more, the merrier.’ She used to laugh.

A soft, mellow laugh. It became my existence, that laugh. I gave up more and more of myself just to hear it again. I drowned in her. Then, the pills would have their effect, and in a few moments that were defined by both revulsion and distress, she would fall unconscious, with her lips still hung up on her smile
 Click here to read Part - 1
Click here to read Part - 3
 Click here to read Part - 4