In the Dying Light

There is a basin in the mind where words float around on thought and thought on sound and sight. Then there is a depth of thought untouched by words, and deeper still a gulf of formless feelings untouched by thought.
--from Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

         Behind Ariadne the sun was setting, leaving a brilliant painting of light and color in its wake. A soft breeze blew through her hair as she stood on the bridge watching the water rush 150 feet below. The crystal clearness of it and the reflection of the sunset drew Ariadne in like a moth to a flame. She closed her sad blue eyes and took a deep breath. So this is how it feels to know when you’re going to die…she thought.

* * *

         At twenty-one years old, Ariadne had become a beautiful young woman. Her golden blonde hair hung in soft ringlets down her back. She had china blue eyes and soft facial features. Growing up, she was told that the world was at her fingertips. All she had to do was reach out and grab it. She would learn later how wrong that really was.

         Her life had been perfect until she was sixteen. She started having violent mood swings -- going from feeling grandiose and omnipotent to feeling worthless and numb. She had incredible highs followed by debilitating lows. During those lows she resorted to self-injuring herself in order to feel. The once pristine skin on her forearms was covered in parallel scars; and her once bright blue eyes were clouded by sadness and despair.

         t wasn’t until her senior year of high school that she learned what was wrong with her. A psychiatrist her parents forced her to see diagnosed her with bipolar I disorder. After a 2 month high that culminated in a psychotic episode that had Ariadne believing she was God, she was admitted into a juvenile psychiatric facility. There she was prescribed medication that left her feeling like a drone.

         She remained stable and medicated for two years. During that time she was accepted into a prominent University to study history. She was well-liked by all of her professors and she excelled in all of her classes. Since she’d been doing so well for such a long time, she decided to stop taking her medication against medical advice during the summer before her junior year. She was fine until midway through fall semester.

         Because she’d been pulling all-nighters in the library, her mental state quickly deteriorated. At first she was hyper-motivated, requiring little or no sleep. She became more involved in her extracurricular activities and more motivated in class. She soon spiraled into a near psychotic state. She thought everyone wanted her to leave school. Her professors were against her and all of her friends hated her. Everyone on campus was watching her every move. Finally, after two weeks without any sleep and little to eat she knew what she had to do. That is when she found herself on the bridge, mesmerized by the water.

* * *

         Cars were speeding past her paying no attention. She had been there everyday for two weeks, just watching the water. Her psychosis continued to worsen until depression and thoughts of suicide clouded her mind. The only way she could be safe was to jump off the bridge. She heard the voices of her friends and family urging her on. As the moon began to show its face, she climbed over the safety railing and stood, perched on the ledge. She closed her eyes and dove into the sunset’s reflection. She hit the rushing water and it quickly began to fill her lungs. There, in the dying light of day, she began to feel at peace. As death descended upon her, she finally felt safe.