If I get High enough

Is there any way to make the voices disappear? I stare at my hands as they slowly turn into figureless shapes, clouded by the smoke of cigarettes in my room. I cannot see where my feet lead me as my vision becomes blurry with the tears streaming down my face. I step on something and it cracks; I feel the blood but keep walking. I hear more things shattering, I feel more blood pouring from the bottom of my feet, but I am

relentless. I keep walking. I stand by my balcony window, placing my bloody hands on the cold pane of glass as I exhale a puff of smoke and know this is the end. I open the latch trapping me into this poor motel room, the stale stench of cheap cigarettes and alcohol filling the room. The dreary wind slaps my face, leaving an imprint on my cheek as I gasp for air. I step onto the cold

pavement as goosebumps instantly form on my raw skin with fresh scars and cuts. I am not okay, but maybe I never was. I just got better at hiding the pain. I grip the flaky ledge of the balcony until my knuckles turn a ghostly white. I swing my right leg over first as I yell from the searing pain that I inflicted

on my self. As I prepare to swing the other leg over, I feel a pair of warm hands wrap around my icy shoulders as I snap my head back. He tells me to stop. I burst into shaking sobs of tears as I stare at my daddy's pale face. I run into his arms and forget

about the note I left on my lamp table, declaring the end of my life. I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the musky scent of his shaving cream. He carries me into his arms like he used to do when I was a baby girl and lies me down to sleep. He sits down in the rocker at the foot of my bed and sings a lullaby with his guitar in hand, like he used to do when I had nightmares and wet the bed. Eventually, my eyes rolled in the back

of my head and I fell into a deep, lucid dream. I saw my dad and I started to run toward him, but as I was about to close the distance between us, to feel his beating heart against mine, he simply vanished. I woke up screaming and crying, and that is when I realized: my dad is dead. I should've been dead. My dad's ghost saved my life.