All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
The Bathroom Floor
My bathroom floor. The frigid tiles have seen me at my worst. The glossy pastel colors have caught my tears that no one hears. I lie on the floor, my cheek pressed to the cool tile. The cold feels refreshing like the crisp fall air. I stare blankly at the ceiling like a dead corpse. My body is numb to all emotions. I make a list in my head of all the good things. My family. My best friend. Mock trial. Country music. My future. Vacations. It was a common occurrence. Was is the key word. I haven’t gone back to that cold, lonely place since I finally got help.
Sitting on the bathroom floor. The cool tile under my toes makes then curl. Cold like cement, like rock bottom. I hug my knees as I rock back and forth, like a boulder teetering on the edge of a cliff. That’s where I was; the edge, feeling like I was being pushed closer and closer to falling. I felt sick, so so sick. My anxiety was at an all time high. I felt like I was going to throw up. I needed to throw up. I couldn’t, there was nothing in me to throw up. Tears race down my cheeks, like rain drops on a window. More tears each time I lunge over the toilette and throw up nothing. I felt my world come crashing down. I couldn’t keep lying to myself. I needed help. My heart beat like a bass drum in my chest. One. Two. Three. Four. I’m okay. One. Two. Three. Four. It’ll be okay.
I peel myself off the unsympathetic ground. I walk out of the room that’s held me when I felt alone. I sit down on the couch with my mom. She takes one look at me and embraces me in a hug. Her warm hug causes my walls to come crashing down. The floodgates have opened as my emotions flow like a raging river. I barely get out the words, “I need help.” She understands. She’s my mom, my guardian angel. My greatest accomplishment is having the strength to get up. I did it. I got help. No more lying to myself about how I’m doing. The bathroom floor can no longer hold me down.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.