It was time to admit it—Chima was experiencing depression. Had been, if she were honest with herself. It wasn't like this were some grand revelation. Given the nature of her experiences, it was bound to happen. Between standing on the edge of Roosevelt bridge and Malik, dark thoughts weren't new. But definitely compartmentalized. Compensated with goals she often pushed herself to hit, pushing herself too much until it either blew up or went pleasantly well.
She told herself,if I could only make this much, or if I could only make this many. Always striving for success, though losing interest once it was achieved. Onto the next one, onto the next distraction. Though she rarely showed it, not intentionally anyway, Chima was tired. You could see the fatigue in her face. On some days, she slept too much. But lately, she was running off two hours tops.
Manic. That was the word for it. That was the word Lili tossed around, less jokingly over the past few days. Hard to blame her; with Chima all but locking herself in the studio. The joys of being back in Atlanta was her having a studio in her home, complete with equipment. Littered with various wine bottles. Wine wasn't an alcoholic's drink, after all. It was the drink of the creatives, an ambrosia.
She knew why, but would rather play stupid about her friends concern. Why be accountable when you could live in delusion instead?
Chima was on her roof, slurred and writing down whatever lyrics popped into her head. She had filled her notebook up in the past few days, had enough songs written to release two albums. She sat on the roof, looking down at the bustling streets of little Five Points. People just walking along, laughing and carefree. She couldn't help but watch with jealousy.
"You know you more of an angel than me, right mama?" Malik was standing to her right, staring down at the street with her. She gave this laugh, a sad one. "Nah, even when you were flesh, I was no angel." She stood up, nodding and grabbing her notebook. "Angels got wings." Foot inching closer to the edge, watching the phantom of her son stare through her. "...Mama, what you doing?" Another foot hitting the edge of the roof. "Getting my wings." Then she tossed herself back.
...So right when I said this, I turned into this... being. This celestial goddess, with a set of wings bursting from my back... Wings large enough for me to get caught in the electric wires. Like a snared sparrow, caught and bound to the city. The people below snap photos, staring up in awe at the spectacle. I get it. And it takes me a moment, but I get out the wires. I'm spiraling to the ground. Til the angel wings in my back brace my fall. Soft feathers lifting me from the concrete. This is one of those times where I land on my back and not my face...