The Mimosa Effect 2

For anyone who missed the early version of this one posted for Sun. Scribblings.

I nearly died again today.

You’d think it might lose some of its dramatic impact after the 50th time, but somehow it still manages to scare the crap out of me. Which is good, because that means it’s still working.

I guess that would make today a milestone of some kind. Like an anniversary, or a birthday. Only without the cake and balloons part.

My mom thinks I’ve been trying to kill myself since I was fifteen, but it’s been going on a lot longer than that. Fifteen is when I came out as an adrenaline junkie. Or rather, it’s when my parents found out, by virtue of me ending up in the hospital, again. What with me being out cold, I wasn’t able to dazzle and distract them with one of my usual far-fetched excuses. (There are only so many times you can say that you fell down the stairs, or were hit by a car, before they start to suspect you’re doing it on purpose.)

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