Don't Fall Asleep in the Woods

I'm not entirely sure how to start this, so I suppose I'll introduce myself, and hopefully it will help you understand some of the choices I've made. My name is Eli, I was a second semester medical student at the university of Toronto. You see, my dad was a fire-fighter, and I always respected and admired that, ever since I was really young. The idea of running head-first into danger in order to save other people was absolutely incredible to me, and so I wanted to follow in his footsteps. I know what you're thinking "Every boy wants to be a fire-fighter when he's little, I'm sure you grew out of it" but I didn't. Even well into high school, it was an obsession of mine. I was determined to do it one day, and to work with my dad. I studied all the time, reading up on different emergency medical procedures, and what to do in case of a fire. I even did something like a summer internship at a fire station, a program that allowed teenagers to help around the station, and even go to fires every now and then. I loved every bit of it. I knew I wanted to help people, and this was how I was going to do it. My parents had always encouraged me to follow my heart, although they weren't too keen on me running into burning buildings, they supported my choices no matter what. My life was great, I had a group of close friends at school, I was sure I was going to get my dream job, and my parents were wonderful. It was perfect, but not forever.

One weekend in my senior year, I was coming home from my friend Matt's house. I had spent the night since a new game had come out, and he wanted me to stay over and play it with him, since it was a horror game, and he had an "active" imagination and he got scared pretty easily. When I got home, I yelled for my mom to let her know that I'd gotten home safe. I walked upstairs to my room, since I'd been watching a movie when Matt had texted me the evening before, and I didn't get a chance to finish it. Before I actually started the movie, my mom walked in the room. Tears were streaming down her face, and my mind kicked into panic mode, wondering what was wrong. My mom sat down on the bed next to me, and gave me a hug, her hot tears dampening my t-shirt. I choked out the words "What's wrong mom? Why are you crying?" As tears began to well up in my own eyes. I was old enough to understand that I probably already knew why she was crying, but I didn't want to believe it.

"Your father... He..."

Her sobs had started to get more powerful once she started speaking, and she couldn't finish. She didn't have to. I knew what was wrong. I'd been trying to mentally prepare myself for this situation for years, since I knew that the chances of it happening were fairly high, but you're never actually prepared for the death of a parent, especially at that age. I had to get out of my house for a while at that point, so I left the house and just walked well into the night, just thinking. When someone close to you dies, the idea of never seeing them again is the hardest part. The best way to describe the feeling is surreal. My mind tried rejecting the thought that my dad was dead, instead replacing it with ideas of conversations that we would have in the future, and things I wanted to tell him. For a little while, it felt like I would get to see him again, but I knew that as soon as I went home, realty would come crushing back down on top of me. For a split second, I pondered running away, in an attempt to rebel against the world and to indulge my imagination. I quickly discarded this idea however, as I knew I couldn't do that to my mom. I headed home, and without a word to my mom, went to my room.

I stayed there for almost a week, only coming out late at night to get a drink of water from the kitchen sink. I didn't really eat anything, only the occasional meal that my mom would leave just outside my door. Usually a sandwich, or something of the sort, and I typically would leave it there until she went to sleep. I mostly spent my time just laying in bed, looking at the ceiling. I tried to keep myself in the delusion that my father was still alive by only leaving my room at times I wouldn't have seen him before he died. I lost almost 25 pounds that week, since I was hardly eating at all.

After I finally accepted that the world had bested me, and I felt like leaving my room, I had a hard time with almost every activity I enjoyed previously. Since my muscles had been used so little, they were stiff and sore all the time, and I found it difficult to move without feeling intense pain course throughout my body. I was forced to accept defeat, because I had to face the truth of the matter. I was going to go to my father's funeral, and there wouldn't be any way I could deny the world its victory there. I realized that I had never found out exactly how he'd died until that point. Him and most of his squad had been trapped inside a building downtown when it blew up, killing them all instantly. I would later find out that the police discovered signs of arson in the area.

It was a short service, since the time was split between all of the men trapped inside. My mom and the wife of another one of the men from my dad's squad paid their respects, and we left. The last of the three men had no family.

When we got home, my mom finally broke down at the doorstep. She held me, looked me in the eyes and said that she was sorry, and I couldn't understand what else she was trying to tell me, so I helped her over to the couch, and sat with her for almost an hour. When she started to calm down, she tried telling me again.

"I'm sorry, but I can't lose you too. I can't do it."

I realized what she was saying, and my heart dropped. She was asking me not to become a fire-fighter, and I couldn't say no. Despite the fact that it was my dream, I couldn't do that to her. I knew that it would be selfish. But, I knew there were other ways of helping people. I'd always been good with my hands, I could be a doctor, or even a surgeon. I couldn't be a fire-fighter though. I decided that, for my mother's sake, I would have to find something else.
About a month and a half after that, I went back to school, and got a part time job at a grocery store in order to support my mom. Between my depression, and my job, I cut off contact with my friends. I felt horrible about not explaining anything to them, but I just didn't know what to do, and so I decided not to do anything. My mother and I spoke less and less as well, and I think it was because of two reasons. I think that she felt like she had turned me against her by asking me to not follow my childhood dream, and I now realize that, maybe she had.

Thankfully, once I actually got into college my depression began to fade, whereas my excitement to help people was reinvigorated. I had decided that I was going to be a surgeon. It became clear to me that my drive to help people had never truly faded, and that it was merely suppressed. After the first year, things were doing great, and I was still driven towards my goals. Since I had always done well in high school, I had managed to make in into a fairly nice college, and I didn't have to worry about tuition. I wasn't going to let the world take this one from me. This time I had won.
That summer, I didn't really do much. I didn't go home, I just hung around and watched movies, and studied for the next semester. I didn't make many friends around campus, since I'd become fairly introverted. I began to slip back into my depression, and that's when I began wondering why I wanted to help people in the first place. I made no attempt to be friends with anyone, and I mostly shut myself off from the world, so why was I driving myself so hard to help the people around me? I quickly pushed these thoughts out of my head, and just thought that, maybe I'd be become interested in the matter once again after I began working, the same way it had happened when I started college.

As the second semester rolled around, something strange started happening. I started to get homesick. Really homesick. It was like a physical ailment, and I could hardly go to my classes. I had realized that, all summer long I wasted time rather than going back to see my mother. I was having a hard time focusing anyway, and so I decided to leave for about a week to see my mom.
I called her, but she didn't pick up, so I decided to just drive there and surprise her. When I got home, I knocked on the door, and a woman answered it.

"Mom! It's so good to see you!"

I spoke too soon. The dark lighting made it hard to see who was inside, and I thought that it was my mom for a moment. A short African American woman standing in the doorway said "Do I know you?" I could tell by her face that she was surprised, and I'm sure that she could tell the same from mine.

"No, I'm sorry. I must have the wrong address."

She agreed with me, and she turned around and walked back inside, closing the door.
My head was spinning, filled with thoughts and questions. Had mom moved without telling me? Why would she do that? Did she think I'd hated her? Why would she think that? But, I made a guilty realization. Thinking back, I couldn't remember a single time that I'd called her since I left for college. I just, dropped out of existence after telling her goodbye. She might think I was dead. Again, my feeling of homesickness washed over me, and I realized that the only person I felt like turning to felt like I had abandoned them. I decided that it was probably best to head back to school, and just try to forget, rather than reopen old wounds between me and my mother.
I found myself able to focus on studies a bit more once I got back, so I decided to focus on the good rather than the bad. I started to get poor grades in my main classes, but I opted to ignore it rather than attempt to improve. I felt like things were falling apart, but I just wanted to stay optimistic about my life.

I finished the year with mostly C's and D's, but I failed any of the classes I didn't care about. I began to slip back into my depression that summer. I stayed inside, watching videos on my laptop every now and then, but mostly just laying around doing nothing of any value. One day, while I was browsing the internet aimlessly, I clicked on my email. To my surprise, and genuine amazement, I'd received a message from Matt, my best friend from high school. He told me that in a couple weeks him, Tom, and James, three of my closest friends, were going camping. I decided that, I probably wouldn't go. I still felt horrible about abandoning them in high school, and I felt more comfortable sitting here at home, without worrying about how I conducted myself around people. I was always afraid of the connections I made with people, since I felt like each time I would hit another rough patch, I would probably just hurt them. I decided that I'd be perfectly happy staying here in my dorm, letting myself waste away while waiting to continue my work towards my dream of helping people.

A week later, I was beginning to warm up to the idea of going camping. It was something me and my friends had always loved doing when we were little, and in his email, Matt had described a patch of forest that a friend from college told him about, where we'd be surrounded by Giant Sequoias. It sounded beautiful. While I still wasn't sure if I was going to go, the idea got stuck in my head.
Three days after that, I decided. My heart was pounding as I got out my laptop, and sent Matt a reply. I told him that I wanted to go, and I asked him what I needed to bring. Two hours later, he emailed me back. He said that I'd need a sleeping bag, and maybe a flashlight if I wanted one. They'd bring food and drinks. I immediately responded, asking how long they were expecting to be gone. Another hour passed, and he said they thought maybe three days or so, but they were bringing enough food for about a week and a half, just in case they decided to stay longer. He told me that they'd pick me up that weekend, since my college was on the way. At that point, I realized that I really wanted to go. For the first time in almost 3 years, I had something to genuinely be happy about. I was finally going to make up for abandoning my best friends, and I was actually excited about it. I couldn't wait for the weekend.

Sorry to cut this off here, but I don't have time to write more now. Despite my current situation, I still have some stuff to do. Don't worry though, I'll finish this up and post the rest of my story later, since I haven't had time to tell you the strange parts of my life. I just wanted you all to understand why I made some of my more questionable choices that I'll be telling you about later on.