Blue

Joe gave me motivation and a cause to live. She could be impish and impudent at times, but only to the ones that caused her or her loved ones great despair. I never anticipated that Joe would be responsible for the predicament that befell the tiny town in which she lived. Joe became the most significant aspect of my life after her birth on May 8 in Starrville, Rhode Island. She was my person, and I was hers. Blue, that was the name Joe had given me. She often would toy with my eyes, pull my ears, and tug on my arms, but I did not mind. She would hold me when she was scared to fall asleep at night. I was her protector even though I was only that of stuffing and stitches. As she shared her aspirations for the world she would one day encounter, I watched her discover who she was. I watched her smile as she watched the world in awe of its beauty, and I felt the tears she wiped on me from those who hurt her. I watched her discover passions and make connections. In the depths of her despair, I witnessed her rise and fall. I observed her as she made dubious and rather ludicrous decisions. Although it was difficult to watch her make these choices, I was powerless to stop her since I was only a stuffed bear. Joe was a beautiful girl with ecru eyes who frequently questioned her appearance. I watched as she discovered emotions that she had never experienced in her years of childhood. She would often be in a dilemma with others in school or in a state of hysteria when the world felt like it was turning on her. Being perpetually liberal and acceptable lost its novelty over time. Her mood seemed to alter as the day carried on, from the glorious dawn to the impending darkness. I watched as she no longer needed me. The world seemed darker than before, and Joe believed everything and everyone was against her. She would often wonder why her life was in pieces and why good days did not exist anymore. Sobriety was a thing of the past as Joe grew up. She found alcohol and drugs, which gave her a feeling that no one else, not even I could bring her. The feeling these substances brought her was everlasting and pain defying. She was quite delirious in these moments. I watched as Joe struggled with mental health and self-image. The battles of weight, love, and acceptance. My beautiful girl was changing. I could see her darkening as the days dragged on. I was there, listening, watching, and loving her. I wished she could see herself through my eyes and become the unperturbed individual I knew she was capable of being. I watched as Joe made multiple efforts to end her life. I spent days watching, as that was all I could do. I watched as she attempted to overdose one evening, and was sent to a psychiatric institution for two weeks after her attempt was unsuccessful. She insisted she was better, but I could see through her lies. Just by looking at her, I could tell that her desire to die was much greater than the one to live. One evening, Joe took me on her bike with her to a local bridge nearby. It was a chilly and windy night appropriate for the incident I knew would take place. Joe had stored a stack of letters beneath her pillow that she had written over the previous week. Every letter was addressed to a significant individual in her life. The bicycle ride to the bridge was a rather rare moment. I saw Joe content with herself and everything around her. Her hair was blowing in the wind as the streetlights provided a few inches of light in the dark. Joe resembled the young girl I had missed as we drew near the bridge. As memories of her early life rushed through my head, I turned to face her. She was my little girl and I was about to lose her. She picked me up out of the bike basket and placed me in her arms. It had been a while since I had been in her arms, and it made me realize just how much I needed her and possibly how much she needed me. Joe looked at me and said, “Blue, I tried my best to love life but it did not love me back.” Joe saw an exit. The bottom would mark her new beginning. One that could free her from herself. She was no longer frightened of the pain nor was she in a never-ending struggle. She could finally breathe. She was at peace as she watched the world around her rise as she fell. She felt alive for that split moment before the world went dark. That was when I noticed I had fallen too.

-Mia Almonte