Revival
A wave of guilt washed over me. “I”m sorry for taking out my anger on you.”
“I’ve been through worse.”
I laughed dryly. That’s exactly what she had said when she was talking on the phone earlier. It still didn’t make it okay for me to use her as my own personal verbal punching bag, no matter how strong she was.
“That doesn’t excuse how I treated you.”
Never slap away a hand that is only reaching out to try and help you after you have fallen.
That was something my mom used to say whenever she tried to help me, and I constantly pushed her away. Lexi was a stranger, but she was also someone I respected from afar. She didn’t deserve how I treated her. Neither did my mother.
“Well, I”m also kind of glad you felt safe enough to say what you were really thinking. I think that’s something a lot of people struggle with, especially around celebrities.”
There were so many people who followed celebrities blindly, regardless of their choices or their actions. Sometimes it seemed like money made people untouchable. That was not how I saw it, though. Following someone just because they had wealth and power, despite their negative impact, was not something to be proud of. Having different opinions was one thing, but you couldn’t just sit around and be a “yes-man” for your whole fucking life, no matter who the other person was.
And I think it’s clear that I was the exact opposite of a yes man.
And so was she.
“So, I take it I”m not doing a good job at trying to win you over as a friend, huh?”
“Surprisingly, I think that conversation is just what we needed,” she laughed. “It was the first test of our friendship.”
“Okay,” I pursed my lips together into a thin line. “I”ve told you my secrets. Now, it”s only fair I get to ask you some questions, too.”
Lexi”s eyes widened as she let out a singular laugh with a sarcastic undertone. “Ha, yeah, because that’s the logical next step, seeing as how my whole autobiography isn”t available to the public for everyone to see!”
“I never trust Google anyway.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t care. It’s my turn. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done?”
“I’m still asking you a question after this,” I muttered. She shrugged. I let out a sigh while I rubbed my face to hide the embarrassment that crept its way onto my cheeks. “One time when I was younger, I tried to do a backflip and landed on my face.”
“Ooo ouch,” she cringed.
“Yeah, safe to say, I’ll never try to do that again.”
“Good,” she laughed. “But on a totally unrelated note, can you try to do a front flip in reverse?”
“Oh, you just think you’re so funny, don’t you?” I glared at her. If she wanted to bring up the embarrassing questions, then I could too. “What would your stripper name be?”
She raised an eyebrow at this. “Oh, we are getting serious now, aren’t we?” I smirked and nodded back at her. “Okay, well, it wouldn’t be anything corny like cherry or diamond.” She pondered for a few seconds before landing on, “Harley, because it”s close to Harlow and reminds me of Harley Quinn.”
“Wow, you put a lot of thought into that. Is this your way of telling me you want to become a stripper?”
“Yeah, right. You wish,” She laughed. “What’s your guilty pleasure?”
“Honestly, it’s probably music.”
“Boring.”
“Dude, you just roasted your own career,” I laughed. “You make music, remember?”
“Oh,” she paused. “Whatever. I’m counting that as your question, so it’s my turn again.”
I immediately stopped laughing and began yelling in a high-pitched voice. “What? That’s not fair!”
“What type of music do you like?” She asked, ignoring my reaction.
“Only Lexi Harlow, of course.”
She hit herself on the forehead with her palm. “Duh, of course,” she clicked her tongue. “I don’t even know why I bothered to ask because that’s the only acceptable answer.”
“Obviously,” I responded while sticking my neck out. “What”s your favorite song that you”ve written?”
“Ummm,” she said while thinking for a few seconds. Lexi had four albums, not including her EP’s. First, there was Half A Heart. Most of the songs on this album were about love and heartache. Then there was Resilient, which featured music about strength and confidence. Her next album, Alive Again, was deemed a recovery anthem, which she wrote after her suicide attempt. Most recently, her newest album, Papercuts, showcased the anger and resentment that she built up inside after years of criticism. “I think my favorite would be Insanity,” she answered.
That was one of the most vulnerable songs she had ever released, and it was the number-one single on Alive Again. She even admitted in an interview that Insanity was the first song she wrote again after trying to take her own life.
“Mine too, actually.”I could almost hear the words to the song play aloud in my head.
How will I escape this insanity?
All people care about is vanity.
Looking at me like a defective Barbie.
I don’t feel alive, not hardly.
Screaming out profanities,
How will I escape this insanity
“That song was meant to be an outlet for me, but I’m glad it helped so many other people.”
I couldn’t imagine how many emotions she had to go through while writing that song, and to top it all off, every word was so deeply personal to her. It was almost like she purposely leaked her diary online to a million strangers. I barely liked to talk about what I did over the weekend, let alone talk about my mental health journey. How did she do it?
“What happened the night you committed suicide?” I blurted out without thinking it over first.
“I figured that question was coming,” she laughed breathlessly. “Everyone asks, but no one is ready for the real answer.”
“Do you ever tell them the truth?”
“I don’t tell them anything,” she sighed.
Most people had a rough idea of what happened, but no one really knew the full story. Lexi had just turned twenty-two at the time. Sources said she had been found unconscious alone in her room after swallowing a whole bottle of prescription drugs. They had to put her in a medically-induced coma to save her life. I remember the feeling of my heart sinking when I first heard the news. I had come home from school, and it was being broadcast on almost every channel.
Swinging open the front door, I flung my backpack over the side of the couch as it landed with a thud on the cushion. I kicked off my shoes and stretched before announcing my presence.
“Mom! I’m home!” I shouted, my hands cupping my mouth while I faced the direction of the kitchen.
“Honey, is that you? I can’t hear you over the TV! Can you turn it down?” She screamed back.
Plopping down on the couch, I held the remote control in hand, shivering at the eerie feeling of deja vu that resonated deep within me as I thought about how my father used to have this exact same routine. Come home, kick off his shoes, announce his presence, then sit and watch TV. I was just about to mute the volume when a breaking news report popped up on the screen.
‘brEAKING NEWS! SINGER LEXI HARLOW IS IN THE HOSPITAL—’
“What?” I whispered.
I switched channels.
‘CELEbrITY LEXI HARLOW KNOWN FOR HER MUSIC CAREER IS IN CRITICAL
CONDITION—’
I clicked the remote again.
‘LEXI HARLOW IN BAD SHAPE AFTER A BOTCHED SUICIDE ATTEMPT—’
Click.
‘SINGER-SONGWRITER LEXI HARLOW OVERDOSED ON PILLS A YEAR AFTER
THE DEATH OF HER FATHER—’
Click.
‘UNSURE ABOUT HER CURRENT STATUS, BUT IT”S NOT LOOKING GOOD—’
“Oh my god…”
It’s crazy how attached you could be to someone you barely knew, and yet when they felt pain, it was almost as though you felt it too. The scary thing about reliving that memory, though, was realizing that I had less of a reaction after finding out my own father had died. This was a heavy topic and I felt like shit for even asking her that question in the first place. I was prying for information that wasn’t mine to know in the first place. Lexi was not my family, and in all honesty, she probably didn’t even consider me a friend. I had no right to invade her privacy in that way.
“Enough of your life has been scrutinized by the public. You deserve to have things that you can keep to yourself.” I offered a sad smile. “So, pretend I never asked.”
“No!” She shot back while making a fist and slamming it down on her knee. “I’m sick of censoring myself and my experiences. I don’t want people to think that depression is some kind of taboo subject. Maybe if someone told me that it wasn’t, I would’ve talked to someone about what I was feeling instead of trying to take my own life.”
I opened my mouth to insist that she didn’t need to feel obligated to share her story, but instead, what came out was, “Okay.”
There was no way I was about to sensor her like her managers and publicists had been doing for her entire life.
Lexi let out a shaky breath, as though she were rethinking her decision. I put my hand on her shoulder as a sign of support.
“I’m here for you if you need someone to listen, but I won’t push if you decide you’re not ready.”
Without a second thought, she began to speak.
“Honestly, the thing is, it was no different than any other night, but I think that was the problem. Nothing ever got any better.” She then focused on the dimly lit lights on the ceiling mounted above us. “When I was younger, I was so consumed with being a celebrity that I felt like I needed to fit the stereotypical mold of one. I struggled with anorexia for years, starving myself so that I could have the body everyone was telling me I needed, but all of the constant voices in my head were too much. I thought the only way to stop them was by drinking, so I turned to alcohol. That quieted the noise for a while, but when the alcohol wore off, so did the silence.” I never knew she struggled with alcohol. I always thought that because of her dad”s addiction, drinking was something she would never do. I guess you can”t make assumptions about someone else”s life, especially when you don”t really know them. “After being forced into AA, I learned to focus on my own words and drown out everyone else”s.” She closed her eyes as she told me things that I wasn”t sure I should even be listening to. “But even that wasn”t enough because, after a while, I started to resent my own voice. I hated myself even more at that point because, when I stopped purging and obsessing over my calorie intake, I gained so much weight. I felt worthless.”
Lexi and I barely knew each other. Why was she sharing so much with a stranger she had met in a public restroom? Maybe it was easier to talk to someone who felt so far away from the life that she was living. Maybe I made her feel as safe as she made me feel. Maybe this was her way of feeling less alone. Maybe, just maybe, being here with the one person who had no choice other than to listen to your story was somehow therapeutic…for both of us.
Maybe.
“Lexi…” I trailed off, at a loss for words.
“Then my father died, and the pain of losing him was too much to bear. I resented him so much when he was alive, but deep down, I always pushed for him to get better. When he died, I lost hope in the possibility of recovery. I felt like I failed him. I felt like I failed myself. I didn’t see the point of trying to get better. That”s when I refused to eat again. That”s when the voices in my head started getting louder. I started to push everyone away like he did. One night, I decided I was done trying to survive in a world that I didn”t even like.” Her voice was trembling, hoarse from retelling the details of the story. Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears. Clenching her hands into fists, she went on, “So I got drunk and bought pills from some dealer I met online.” By this point, she had started to silently cry.
When I was diagnosed with depression, I never thought about ending my life. It was more about feeling trapped for me. I always felt like there was no way out, but the thought of death being the solution never crossed my mind. I couldn’t imagine how much pain she had to be in for her to consider that as her only option.
“Lexi, I’m so sorry.” I leaned my head on her shoulder.
Wiping her tears, she explained how the suicide attempt had impacted her life. She had suffered multiple seizures, and her heart even stopped at one point. The seizure caused brain damage, which affected her speech significantly. She was in therapy for a year before she fully regained the ability to speak properly, and then it was onto the matter of actually singing. It took another five months to retrain and strengthen her voice. Recovery was a tricky journey to navigate in any sense, but the fact that she had to retrain her mind and body was something I was sure I would have never been able to accomplish.
“I honestly don”t know how I survived. I should be dead right now,” she reflected.
I couldn’t deny that. By all means, she should not be alive right now, but I was so happy that she was.
“You”re just too stubborn to die,” I laughed, picking my head up from her shoulder and raising my knees to my chest. My goal had been to make her smile, not cry. But sometimes I forget it’s okay to do both. “No, it”s not that you”re stubborn,” I said, shaking my head and refuting my previous statement. “It”s that you”re strong.”
She chuckled before responding, “I’m ‘resilient.’”
I laughed as she referenced her own album. “Hey, now you”re getting it!” I lifted my arm up with my palm facing her.
Shaking her head slightly, she lifted her arm and slapped my hand with hers. “You”re a fucking loser,” she snorted, then bumped my shoulder with her own. “But thank you.”
I was in no position to offer words of advice, and honestly, I wasn’t even sure if she wanted any. All I could really do was listen to her story…but sometimes, just listening was enough.
“Hey, Lexi?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re still here.”
“Me too.”
Looking at her, I analyzed her facial expression. “Are you okay?” I questioned, hoping I didn’t open old wounds with my curiosity.
“Yeah, it’s actually nice to talk to someone about this.”
“Talking to a total stranger about your deepest scars,” I summarized her words. “Yeah, maybe Lexi Harlow is insane.” We both cracked up, laughing together in spite of the heavy topic that we had just discussed. Something I learned in therapy was that just because you had depression it didn’t mean you would never smile. “Speaking of being insane, ‘Insanity’ is an amazing song, by the way. You have no idea how much it helped me.”
“I wrote that song after I tried to commit suicide,” she glared at me. “I think I have a pretty good idea of how therapeutic it is.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I shook my head vigorously. “I’m so sorry.”
She laughed at that. “Relax, I was just giving you a hard time.”
“What the fuck! You’re a real ass, you know that?”
“And don’t you forget it!”
“Oh, trust me, Lexi Harlow. Everything about you is unforgettable.”