She Dims the Stars (28 page)

Authors: Amber L. Johnson

All of it started with one girl and a question.

Audrey is leaning back against my chest while the music begins to grow louder and the crowd starts to get more amped up. Without her having to ask, I walk us backward until we’re away from the center of the madness, holding her in place against my body. She’s safe here with me. Always has been and always will be.

She turns and looks up at me from behind neon yellow glasses, then pulls them down off her face and tilts her head to the side to give me a wistful smile. “What?”

I brush a strand of pink away from her forehead and lean in to kiss her mouth, cradling the back of her head so that I can look her in the eyes when I pull back. “Run away with me,” I say and press another light kiss to her parted lips.

She smiles, her eyes so full of life and mischief, as she places the sunglasses on top of her head. “Name the time and place, Elliot Clark. I’m all yours.”

These words I know are true.

Somehow, I know they always will be.

I plan to watch Byrdie fly for the rest of my entire life.

Hello, sweet reader! Thank you for taking a chance on me. On this book. On Audrey, Elliot, and Cline.

It should be noted that Bertram Falls, Tennessee does not exist. Neither does the fictional Brixton College (just my homage to the late Mr. Bowie). The Confession Tree is not a real thing, however the cemetery and bridge that are described leading to it are very much a place that can be visited – but I would advise against it.

Audrey, though… Audrey does exist in one way or another. She’s someone you know, or knew, or she’s possibly a little bit of you.

I wrote this book for a very specific reason and that was to show another side of anxiety and depression that doesn’t get a spotlight very much: the hidden kind. The kind that’s folded away behind a nod and a smile, a joke or a laugh, an entire night out with friends that leaves that person exhausted for days afterward having to recharge because being ‘on’ all the time takes so much out of them.

Depression is a hard topic to discuss. It’s hard to understand. And even deeper than that? If you have experienced it, your depression may not be the same as someone else’s. It may not be the same as mine. You could ask a million people what their experience is like and you might hear that 90% of what you've experienced is the same, but the other 10%?

Mine and yours alone

Depression is an ugly, ugly thing. It starts small and grows until it's like those vines around trees that envelope the entire plant until it's suffocated and the intruder is satisfied and full because it's taken the host's life source. Even when you are doing your very best to fight it, depression and anxiety kinda hold your hand and pop in every once in a while like that annoying neighbor you try to deter from visiting by turning off your porch light. They know you're home, though. They persist. It persists.

Even on medication that is supposed to help with this mess, the depression creeps in. It hovers and seeps and tries to vine its way in. But I fight.
You fight.
They fight. Every day we face the battle to hold the hand of the one who keeps us down or look up and hope that we can say that today was a good day.

So trust me when I say that I know about 90% of what you're going through. And because of that you are NOT alone. Some of us are silent in our suffering and others will look you straight in the eye and say that we're in pain. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that no matter which side of the fence you're on you need to hear something that will make you see the light and the only thing I can offer is this:

I am glad you're alive. I'm glad you were born. I'm glad you're still here.

You keep up the good fight, okay?

You are the hero in this game. Don’t you ever forget it.

Xoxox,

Amber L. Johnson

First and foremost I have to thank my husband and my son for giving me a month and a half of Sundays to complete this book. AJ and EJ, those precious few hours you gave me in a quiet house made all of this possible. A, thank you for always being my inspiration, you video game creating genius. E, I’m sorry I ate all the Halloween candy in the process of getting this finished. Mostly. I’m mostly sorry I ate it all. There are a few pieces left in the freezer.

I tried to find a way to thank Dylan O’Brien for his face, Miles Teller for his mannerisms, and coffee for getting me through all those early mornings without sounding like a weirdo, but that’s not going to happen. It is what it is.

Stephanie DeBear, my writing partner, critique partner, and the reason half of the weirdest pieces of the dialogue in this book exist thanks to our real life texts - Thank you. We both know I’m crazy, but you signed on for life, and you can’t back out now. It’s in the contract. Your genuine enthusiasm to see me be successful makes me want to cry, but that would ruin my make up so let’s stop that right now. Our collective brains are now responsible for rainbow poop shitting unicorns, penis throwing octopi, and scrotum beetles. Our parents are so proud.

Lori Wilt, thank you for loving Audrey and Elliot for the last three years, back when they were part of a YA book called ‘Falling for the Girl Next Door.’ I know they don’t resemble the original characters much, but you’ve stuck by my side as I trudged my way through this process and chipped away at them until they became who I wanted them to be. You’re the driving force in all of my soundtracks.

Amber Sachs, Lynsey Johnson, Dani Hart, Angela Williams, Nicki Firman, and Mandy Arthur: reading your feedback and responses as you experienced the book was such a joy for me. You helped me in more ways than you will ever know, the biggest of which being to push me to actually publish this book and to keep writing, no matter how hard it was at the time. You kept me going. I owe you big time. And I adore you endlessly.

Thank you to my editors: April Brumley, thank you for swooping in so fast and for turning things around just as quickly. I swear I will never call a man’s bathing suit swim trunks again. And Catherine Jones, you are incredible. Thank you for making this manuscript look so pretty before it went to print. Karen D. I appreciate you taking time to work on the first half of the book. I’ll never look at run-on sentences the same!

Amber Maxwell, thank you for the beautiful gift of the Dims cover. It far exceeded my expectations and continues to take my breath away. You are a true artist and I’m blessed to know you.

Lindsey Gray, thank you for making my book look so gorgeous. Your formatting skills are always impeccable and I know I can always count on your professionalism whenever we work together.

Nurse Angela VanBuren, thank you for making sure our girl got the right help she needed in the hospital. You always give me the best medical advice and if I ever ended up in the hospital in your state, I would demand to be seen by you. I heart your face.

Jocelyn, my September in July…thank you for allowing me to use your likeness and your face. We’ve been friends for over 10 years. Legally, we’re sisters now.

Laura, my Delilah, thank you for your gift of song and for allowing me to share it with the world. We’re beyond common law friendship too, now. I’m your other sister. Tell Kelita sorry-not-sorry.

Huge thanks to The A Team, my street team on Facebook who helps spread the word about my new releases. I am honored you’d spend your time with me. You are the actual best. I’ll make you t-shirts to prove it.

To Mariana’s Trench for being the never ending loop that I listened to while writing this book: Thanks for the harmonies, the imagery, and the lyrics that kept me going, even when writer’s block settled in.

Lastly, to you the reader, for taking a chance on this book. Personal stories are super scary to write. They are terrifying to share. Having someone believe in them makes it all worthwhile.