Indescribable
03.26.02 // 1:30 a.m.

On Saturday night Tim told me that I always had a look on my face like if I knew a secret – a good one – that no one else did. “You just have a peaceful glow.” I guess I hid it exceptionally well because the only secret I was holding was definitely not good and peaceful was not the word to describe my feelings.

The last time I updated was early Friday morning. By that point, my sister, Lori (o Yo/Yoyi), had already attempted to commit suicide. Those words are extremely difficult to write. It was even tougher to hear the words from Dad as we sat in his Jeep outside of my apartment on Friday night.

Something seemed weird when I went out to see him. I thought he and Mom were coming over to my apartment to bring me home cooked fish and fideo since I wasn’t planning to go home. I was going to clean, finish my paper and then see Dom when he got in from the Bay.

“I came because I needed to tell you in person. Right now everyone is okay and at home.” I knew immediately it was not a death, but I could not imagine hearing the words that followed.

“Early this morning, Lori overdosed on Tylenol…”

He continued filling in the facts. He and Mom found her vomiting around 3 am. Earlier in the week she had been sick, but Dad knew it was something different. Yo told him, “something is very wrong.” She confessed to them that she had taken too many pills. Dad instructed Mom to call 911, but instead they called poison control. They asked Lori how many she had taken, she answered 15-20. Around 3 in the morning they took her to the emergency room in an ambulance. At the hospital she drank liquid charcoal to get it out of her system. They couldn’t keep her under surveillance there even if they wanted to. Lori is 18, an adult, and she didn’t want to be there.

Everyone was there except for me. My dad had an appointment in the morning, Lori insisted that he go. Danny and Adrian then left around noon and a little later Danny returned to pick up Mom and Lori. She refused to see a psychologist that afternoon and preferred to go home and rest.

Dad told me all this, and then went on to tell me what he did. After his appointment he came home and immediately went to Lori’s room to look for something she may have written. He read the last few entries in her journal, noticed the words ‘Forest Lawn, smile, Tylenol” written in dry-erase marker on her mirror. Forest Lawn is a cemetery. After reading some of her journal he read some of the emails she had sent. Under normal circumstances my parents would never go through our journals or email, but this was literally a matter of life and death.

By this point I couldn’t stop crying. Dad finally suggested that I go inside and get some things to go home. He could take me and bring me back when I wanted. I ran in, packed a change of clothes. Told Vane quickly what had happened and returned to the Jeep. The ride home was pretty quiet most of the way.

I got home and found Lori in Mom’s bed. She was in her pajamas and looked kind of tired. I hugged her and held her close to ensure that she really was still alive and with us. “I love you,” I told her. I touched her hair softly and looked at her eyes that were watering up. Arlene and Jaqueline, two friends of the family, got up to leave, I hugged Mom and she thanked me for coming. Then Lori joined us for a group hug.

Since then I’ve spent most of the time with Yo. I talked to her on Friday night. She was very precise about everything she told me, but the why was not quite there. I couldn’t do much except just listen to her.

Lori said that if she would have intended to kill herself she would have written a long letter to all the people in her life. I fell asleep by her side hoping that Dom would call because I really wanted to talk to him, but he was on the road.

In the morning Mom got me out of bed and asked me to read something. I sat alone in my grandparent’s room and read photocopies of the last 8 pages or so of her journal. Those were the most painful words I have ever read in my life.

I feel suffocated in this world. I am a pathetic loser. I am one Mosqueda short of graduating. I like the picture that Angie took of me because in it I am not smiling and looking down, that’s the real me. I talked to Dom tonight, he said its normal to feel depressed.

On Friday morning she wrote what she would tell her family and friends. She asked me to keep her journal safe and speak at the funeral because she loved my words. She apologized for ruining my graduation day. It’s not your fault, she wrote. I know one day you thought you would really hurt me, but you didn’t. I’m sorry for not talking to you like you asked me to. In the last lines she wrote, Cindy I love you, but I can’t stay with Cindylu.

I cried again.

It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. Then why do I still feel like I failed you, Yo?

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