Enough

She had finally had enough of it. The low pay, the weight gain, the way men avoided her when she walked down the street. All of it. Never ending, like the gift of mental illness that just kept on giving. Bipolar I was not just Bipolar I. It was medication that made her throw up, body pains that came from nowhere, insomnia, oversleeping, and a gut problem that never quit. Yes, she had had enough.

The half-empty bottle was judging her again. You drink too much, it scolded. Get off your lazy ass and take charge. Stop being such a bitch and grow a set. The bottles always made her cry. They lined her kitchen counter and bedside table, telling tales of despair and resignation. Each one stood in judgment of her inability to deal with her shit.

It was really all the iPhone’s fault. The bastard had been quiet for weeks. It produced no invitations and no offers, turning her into the biggest nobody she had ever known. She hated how much she needed the little asshole. Most of her wanted to flush it down the toilet and have done with it.

The mailbox and the front door didn’t help. Her family had either lost her address or the jerks down the street were stealing her mail again. The front door had been broken for months, but her landlord ignored her requests to fix it. He was an asshole, too, she decided. The least he could do was provide her a door good enough for her to hear the knocks that surely had to have been coming.

Grow a set! The bottle had lost all patience with her. Get on with it!

She knew it needed to be done. Just swallow the bottle of pills, finish the drink, and find some peace.

Her cat had even had enough of her. He only came in to eat, then immediately meowed to be let out again. Why would he want to hang out with such a loser? The bottle chided her. Even a cat has its limits.

She sighed. Crying wasn’t helping. All it did was make her more tired and wanting to drink more. Her eyes were constantly swollen and the crack in her bathroom mirror stood in proof of her ugliness. She could swear it grew every time she glanced at herself. Go the fuck away before I’m totally broken. Grow a set and leave me alone! The mirror would have no more of her nonsense.

A fly buzzed anxiously around the bedroom windowsill, looking to get out. She laughed. Even a mother fucking fly wouldn’t land on her. That’s how bad it was. One of the lowest life forms on the planet couldn’t take being in the same room with her.

As if it read her mind, the fly flew higher. Bzzzzzz … bzzzzzzz … bzzzzzz. Its frenetic rhythm was rocking her to a shallow sleep. Bzzzzzzz ….

The fly’s tempo was the same and yet it was changing. It was somehow sharper and calling her name. Hey! It called. Get your ass up and over here!

Why the hell would she want to listen to a fly? Christ’s sake. Had it gotten so bad that an insect could boss her? Grow a set! The bottle yelled. I don’t have much left to drink and you are way overdue!

The fly was getting louder. It was almost intolerable and split her head in half. Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

Her eyes flew open and searched for the fly. Up, over, down …. It was laying on the windowsill, its legs curled up in resignation. Buzz! Buzz!

What the hell? She thought. Did I actually do it? Am I already gone?

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

The asshole of an iPhone was finally talking to her. Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! It was relentless.

Not knowing any different, she reached over, picked it up, and pushed the Answer. Probably a sales call ….

“Hello?” She croaked.

The voice on the other end was hesitant. It had been years since she had heard it, but she would never forget it.

“Hi, Brianna,” he said. “Long time.”

“Alex?”

“It’s me. I just wanted to call to wish you Happy Birthday and tell you I still love you.”

A stream of light broke through a hole in her blinds and blinded her eyes, dispersing a rainbow through the tears that were now flowing. A smile found her face.

“Is there a time we could talk?” He asked.

The bottle fell silent and she found her voice.