Chapter 1
Jatavia
Seasonal depression hits different in Vegas. People think you can’t feel sad in a city full of lights, liquor and fake happiness. The end of every year always put me in a gloomy mood. My thoughts would always reflect over my entire year and what all I accomplished. So far, nothing.
I still was making the same amount of money with keeping the same job. I had the same boyfriend, and my relationship status was as rocky as last year.
I laid on my back inside of my small one-bedroom apartment where the sunlight felt too tired to shine. My place stayed dim no matter what lights I turned on. It probably was the beige walls or maybe it was me. I stared lost in space at my ceiling fan spinning like it didn’t even want to spin. My alarm had been going off for seven straight minutes, and I still hadn’t managed to turn it off.
6:17 Am.
It was time for me to get ready for work. Pretend that I was fine. It felt like it was also time to survive another day in a life that barely felt like mine…Why the hell did I move to Vegas again? Away from family and the so-called friends that I had?
I asked myself that question almost every day and came up with the same answer. I was tired of living with my parents.Tired of drowning myself in all of the ‘What if’s and sorrows that I hadn’t overcome back in Watts, California. I desperately needed to get away because it had felt like I was literally going to have the worst breakdown known to mankind.
I started to save the little money I did have to move out of my parents’ apartment by my 26thbirthday. When the truth was, it wouldn’t happen living in L.A working a 9 to 5. The cost of living was too damn high, nothing was affordable.
My parents lived in the projects all of my life, and for someone like me that battled with depression on and off, my environment mattered to me the most. After my older brother got murdered, I really made a vow to move. So, I set my sights on Vegas. I been living out here for four years straight. It was a month before my 30thbirthday and I felt disappointed in myself for some reason.
I missed the hell out of my brother; he pushed me to be more and do more. Some would think we were twins with the way our intuition connected to one another. The problem was, I always accepted his guidance and advice, but he never accepted mine. Travis loved the streets and everything that came with them. Money, women, selling drugs and anything else he could take part in, he did. I used to tell him that it wasn’t good for people to fear him.
Fear came with a lot of different negative things from other men. Especially since Travis was considered to be at the top of the food chain coming up big off of moving dope. They took him off the map, so that they didn’t have to fear him. I wanted to blame somebody for it but knew that wasn’t fair at all. Travis brought his death on himself.
His death caused me to spiral more. When they killed him, they took a big half of me being that Travis was indeed my other half. There was no way that I could live in our childhood home without him coming to visit me. No way that I could come hometo Watts and not hear my brother’s obnoxious loud ass friends. I missed everything about Travis, even the annoying things attached to him. Like his loud ass speakers that made his Grand National’s trunk rattle when he was clearly a couple of blocks away. His crooked smile and stupid jokes.
I simply missed the sibling banter that we had mostly every day. Holiday season was not the same without him. So, every year around Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years, I found myself down in the dumps. I still could hear our mom and dad warning him before they officially put him out the house weeks before his death…
“Gang banging and selling drugs brings forth two things! Death or jail. We love you but cannot have you putting all of our lives in danger!”
It was the raw truth that Travis refused to accept. Besides all of the negativity that surrounded his name, I loved him with everything in me. He always made me feel better with just spending time with him whenever I got to feeling low like this. Seasonal depression was something that just appeared out of thin air during the wintertime for me. Travis leaving me seemed to only intensify it now.
I felt emotionally flat, hopelessness overtook me. The things that brought me joy left me feeling nothing. My energy was low no matter how many vitamins I took to help pick me up. Going to work felt like torture when all I really wanted to do right now was stay my ass inside the house.
With a deep breath, I pushed myself up. My bones always felt heavier in the winter. My momma called it ‘the blues’ but I knew what seasonal depression felt like. Right now, it felt like someone was sitting on my chest whispering that nothing would ever get better.
When the raw truth was, nothing was actually wrong. My feet touched the cold laminate floor, and I wrapped my armsaround my stomach as I shuffled toward the bathroom. I passed the living room and laid eyes on my boyfriend Devin who was knocked out on the couch, which was very typical of him.
I could already hear his excuse for why he slept there. The main excuse from him was that I tossed and turned all night and slept wild. He stopped coming to bed months ago. At some point, I changed from a girlfriend that he adored into a woman he tolerated. Truth is, I didn’t give a fuck. I started to anticipate our breakup. Maybe I’d be better alone.
When I flipped the bathroom light on, it flickered like it was annoyed with my existence. I winced before even looking fully in the mirror. I leaned against the counter and softly touched the new breakout forming on my cheek. My acne had always been my loyal enemy, it showed up even when nobody else did. My skin was textured, stubborn, and marked in places that I hid with foundation whenever I wanted to feel pretty.
I wet my hands then scrubbed cleanser over my face and rinsed it off with cold water. After brushing my teeth, I looked in the mirror again. It reflected all the things I spent most of my life trying to shrink. My breasts were huge; with a good bra it held my 44H cup breast up. My stomach wasn’t flat, and my butt was non-existent. Standing still in the mirror, I looked and felt uncomfortable.
I pressed the palm of my hand over my stomach and closed my eyes.
“Get it the fuck together, Jatavia… It’s just the devil playing dirty tricks on you. I’m beautiful.” I tried to reassure myself lowly trying to sound convincing, but my voice cracked.
No matter how fucked up I felt on the inside, I always tried to whisper daily affirmations to myself. I struggled since a kid with feeling like I wasn’t good enough. My parents put me through counseling, and they always tried to speak life into me. I still managed to struggle with it in my adulthood.
After taking a shower, I went back into my bedroom to get dressed for work. The room was barely big enough for a bed and my dresser. A laundry basket sat full of clothes. Lately I had been so tired, all I kept doing was making mental notes to wash my clothes soon as I got an off day. I couldn’t blame it on Devin. He hardly kept anything here. His excuse for that after two years of being together was that he didn’t feel settled here yet. Looking back, maybe that should have told me something about him.
He was a momma’s boy, loved running back home to her whenever we didn’t see eye to eye or had a so-called beef.
I pulled on my black work pants and a simple plain white top that I ironed last night. I always chose big clothes that hid my shape instead of highlighting it. Once I felt comfortable enough with what I had on, I went back to the bathroom to slick my thick hair into a low ponytail. I took one last look in the mirror and thought against putting on make-up since I didn’t have the time.
I eyed the dark circles and my dry lips that I would apply lip gloss to once I made it out to the car. The Jam gel would melt mid-day depending on Vegas weather.
“Today’s gonna be good.” I managed to say the words softly.
