Bullet in the brain
I exit the grocery store.
The day is quiet and pleasantly gloomy.
I’ve been to this store numerous times, it’s a matter of habit.
The wind is picking up, and a strand of my hair is lifted up by it; carried away.
I don’t look sideways, maintaining my balance. I walk to the car.
At least this is what I set out to do, taking a few steps towards parking.
Then, I hear a noise.
Scream.
Shot.
Flash.
Heat.
I feel hot.
I feel hot in my brain.
It takes me a moment to process.
A second to realize I’ve been shot.
Why?
Why in the head?
I let go of one of my grocery bags. Then, the other.
My fingers unfold and I cannot do anything to reverse this action.
I feel weightless, as if my body floats, as if I’m being picked up by the wind.
I find a wall to hold on to.
It’s slightly warm, as the sun has recently set.
I feel so grateful to have something to hold me.
“Don’t fall” – my mind is screaming, but I cannot hear.
I can only feel the desire to not fall.
y eyes are unresponsive, I cannot move or close them.
My body does not listen to me anymore.
Yet, I gather all my strength and try to make each single muscle rigid.
I don’t want to collapse.
If, by accident, the bullet does not explode, I may still have chances.
I try to hold my brain tense, as if that can stop the bullet.
“If the bullet does not explode, I still have my chances”.
I think of Kegels. Does it work the same way in the brain?
Am I already dead?
I can still see, but all my other senses are offline.
I focus on the brain, on how tense it is, how it is stopping the bullet from any motion.
Not a single emotion.
I imagine pushing the bullet out, and of course, that doesn’t work.
I think of my mom.
What is she doing? Who will tell her?
I think of my friend Kate.
My grandfather, after he killed himself. I think of before, the time he let me ride on his back when I was little.
Our cat, who used to eat cucumbers.
I think of my first love. Was it love? I think he did love me.
Second love… No, that wasn’t love!
My friend Jemma, who has the sweetest voice.
My first flight in the aircraft and the incredible feeling of suspension.
My mom, much older, making pancakes for breakfast. She’s wearing a chef’s hat and singing a song we made up from combining senseless popular lyrics.
I will miss those song remakes endlessly.
I remember going to my first concert. Semi-darkness, a stadium full of people, excitement in the air. Live music. Spectacular lighting. A group of friends, with one of the boys trying to kiss me. I didn’t kiss him.
I remember being afraid. I didn’t want to be alone but it was better than betraying myself.
That one time when I almost died in the mountains, but decided to pick myself up and slide back to safety.
I never learned how to swim. I should have learned how to swim!
My friend Irene, who joked she’d marry me if I’m single at 25. Now she is, and I am not.
I remember dating someone who said he wasn’t good enough, and left.
Someone else, who didn’t say anything and left.
I remember being in love. Yes, dating, being married, and being in love are different things!
(They don’t have to be, but often are).
I remember the tiny wrinkles around his eyes.
A smile that could outweigh anything, and anyone.
A moment that lasts an eternity, and vice versa.
The warmth from inside…
…From inside, I can still feel the heat, and the pressure.
It is not necessarily painful, which is likely because I’m paralyzed.
People have gathered, there are a few phones near my face.
I see paramedics, they are stretching out the gurney. A few bystanders are trying to help.
Someone lifts me up and I can only observe it, as if I have no part in the process.
“You arrived so fast!” – says a voice from the crowd. The ambulance driver smiles and insists they have to move even faster.
Image credit: @matteomodica