EXCERPT

I knew I shouldn't go, but this party was important. I had to see Sam. Why couldn't I get a break, just once?

Saturday morning, after finishing a bagel and downing a cup of coffee, dread took up residence in my stomach and brain. Vacuuming the living room failed to help shake off the feeling, so I crawled back into bed, hoping to sleep it away. At about noon, I woke up with a pounding headache, an indefinable angry sensation, and no desire to leave the bed. Then for absolutely no reason, I started sobbing. Please, I begged the encroaching depression, go away, not now, not today. Please, let me make it to this party.

At six-thirty, I dragged myself out of bed and dressed in the costume. By seven o'clock, against my better judgment, I backed out of my parking spot and began the forty-minute drive to Julie's house. Common sense warned me to turn around and go home, but I needed this chance to talk to Sam.

While driving down the main street of Zelienople, the absurdity of the costume smacked me in the face. I turned up the radio volume to drown out the horrible litany of adjectives reverberating through my brain, Ugly, fat, worthless, stupid...

As I drove west on the Ellwood-Zelienople Road, self-abusive thoughts replaced the rational ones, and the angry, evil woman living inside my head, who silences me during every episode, commandeered my thoughts. She taunted: Julie only invited you because she pities you. She knows Sam will never come back. You're ugly and useless, Sam marry you? Ha, such a joke. Stop deluding yourself. No man would waste his life with you.

So absorbed in my masochistic thoughts, I failed to realize my car had drifted into the lane of an oncoming van. Frantic horn honking wrenched my attention away from the costume and back to the road. For a brief second, time slowed and every muscle in my chest constricted around my rib cage. My arms cut the wheel hard to get back onto my own side of the road. Once the van safely passed, I eased onto the shoulder, threw the gear into park, and collapsed forward onto the steering wheel. My hands flew to my head and squeezed. "Shut up," I roared to the part of my brain telling me I should have let the van kill me.

Ten minutes later, I turned the key and put the car into drive. My heartbeat had returned to normal and air moved in and out of my lungs. I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and focused on the road, knowing full well I was driving in the wrong direction. Home was the other way.