Floating. Floating in darkness. I feel nothing, yet I feel everything. The weight of the world could 

possibly be lifted off of my shoulders because I might be dead, therefore no longer in the world. Before I can come to any conclusion, people start appearing in the darkness. 

     My mom, dad, grandparents, cousins; they all appear in this void that might be death. I'm pulled briskly forward until I see a door. This brown door with a rusted, worn-out handle is opened by a force not able to be seen. Behind this door are my parents. They are in the Appleville Hospital, my mother looking rather tired and still dressed in a hospital nightie and my father looking extremely fatigued as well. Even though their tired bodies look droopy and worn, it does not dampen the look of excitement on their faces. They are holding a newborn version of myself. Their faces are radiating joy and gleaming with tears. 

     Seeing my father cry was rather unusual. He is the type of man to put up walls and not let anyone see his true emotion. My mother, on the other hand, is an open book and cries when her body urges her to do so. You would have to be rather dense to not realize that this is my birth. My parents sit down on the rough, scratchy blankets of the hospital bed. My mother is holding me, and she and my father are peering down at me lovingly. I start to cry. I can't believe I've done such a horrible thing when they love me so much. 

     As the large, salty tears start to roll down my cheeks I am pulled back out of this room and towards another door about 50 feet farther in to the nothingness. This door opens and I see my small,

three-person family cuddled up on a threadbare couch in our tightly packed apartment. I'm perched in the center of the couch between my two parents. My dad reads loudly from a book fit for a child of about five, which is a good estimate of my age in this memory. He reads a page of this book to me, then asked me, "Can you read that word for me?", while pointing to a shorter word on the page. 

     "Is it f-for, Da-Da?", I ask him, looking up towards his square face with large, doe eyes. 

     "Yes, Sweetheart! Good job!", he says, beginning to clap. My mom joins in, too, and I start giggling uncontrollably at my parent's behavior. The same guilty thoughts that had occurred towards the end of the last memory pop up again as I'm dragged out of this memory and into what I assume is another one. 

     I'm more used to the drill. I'm not as surprised when the door opens without my interference and my heart doesn't skip as many beats as I'm swept into the next room. Here, I see my parents, grandparents, and cousins in preparation for what I believe is my 10th birthday celebration. My father is up on a ladder reaching to the ceiling, hanging a banner that reads "Happy Birthday, Katherine!". I notice the clacking of a sewing machine and the pink chiffon fabric being run through it as my mom works diligently on my party dress. My grandparents are in the kitchen whipping up cakes and appetizers. 

     I couldn't help but realize how much work had gone into this party that had gone unnoticed by my 10-year-old self. To think that my family loved me so much, and I went and hurt not only myself, but then? That makes not only my stomach hurt but it makes every part of my body begin aching. 

     My mother pulls the party dress out of the sewing machine and I happily bounce into the room. My mother holds the dress up and I stand in the doorway with my mouth ajar. A squeal erupts from my throat and I run towards my mother and she pulls me into a tight hug. Then, as I expected, I was pulled out of this memory and into yet another one. 

     As I'm pulled yet again into a door, I notice myself sitting in my room with headphones on. This version of myself is 15 years old, which also implies that this is my last memory. I remember this day, it was the day of my "incident". I sit on my bloodstained carpet in a hoodie that covers my arms well. Even though it is a humid summer, I always wear that sweatshirt. There is a soft knock at my door. I flip my carpet to the clean side and mumble, "Come in."

     My mom walks into my room and motions for me to take off my headphones. "Hey, baby. Why don't you take off that sweatshirt for once and go outside? It's so nice out!", she says, shaking her head and throwing her hands up. She is obviously done with me being in my room dressed in wintry clothes all the time. 

     "I just don't feel like it, Mom, okay? It's... too easy for me to get a sunburn!", I reply, making an easy excuse. 

     "Katherine, I expect you to get outside sometime this summer because you are not acting in a healthy manner, young lady.", My mom retorts before walking briskly out of my room. I remember my exact feeling that moment, as the tears fell swiftly down my face and I grabbed the shiny metal object from my dresser and pulled up my sleeve. 

     I was pulled yet again out of the room and this time back into the void. There was a light, a bright light shining yellow and red and orange. I was pulled towards that light, and when I reached it I exhaled and my eyes fluttered open. 

    My brown eyes opened to a hospital room. I tried to lift my arms and head up, but I was abruptly pulled back down by the straps holding me down. I looked up to see my family sitting around me. Their eyes were throughly wet as if they had been crying for hours. They just stared at me and I stared back down to the bloody bandages on my wrists as tears filled the eyes of everyone in the room. I then realized that this not only hurt myself and my future, it hurt everyone around me as well.