RoadTrip boyxboy one shots

💔I'm Dying💔

"These pills will help you remember how to smile,
But what does he know?
'Cause I feel so alone,
And mom and dad both tell me I'm alright,
'Cause the doctor said you're fine,

But he don't care about me,
He'll just go home to his family,
Why does no one see?"

~~~

I can hear everything and everyone around me, but I can't move. They're louder than sirens and all I want to do is cover my ears, but I can't. I can't run.

"She's alive. She's breathing." I hear someone speak. They say I'm alive, but I don't feel alive. I feel like I'm drowning. Isn't it bad when even doctors can't do their job properly?

They don't care. They just assume that, because I'm still here, I'm going to be okay. When I let go, they'll lie and say they don't know what happened. That it was a tragedy but there was nothing they could do. They were just too blind to see that I couldn't make it on my own.

I feel like I'm underwater, sinking down to the dark depths of the deepest ocean. But I know I'm not. I can see the bright lights shining down on me. I can't speak. I can't ask them to turn off the lights. I can't hide.

"We don't need to bring in a professional. She's okay."

'She's okay.'

It's funny how they just assume that from what they can see. They're mistaking my suffocating for breathing. But I'm obviously not going to correct them. I can't. I can't speak. I'm trapped in a body that isn't mine, and it's taking control of my mind. It doesn't want to be saved. I guess I don't deserve to be saved.

"Wait until she wakes up and then she can leave."

I don't need any more help. They think I can just go back to how things were. They don't even check that I'm fine. I guess the loud beeping machine tells them all they need to know. I'm here, and I must be okay.

But it isn't a machine. It's my thoughts screaming at me. Louder than sirens. Reminding me I'll never escape. I'm not paralysed. I'm not stuck in my body. I'm stuck in my mind. It isn't a doctor. It's my friends. They're not doing their job properly. They think I'm okay without actually asking me. I guess they don't care about me as much as they say they do.

The lights are shining down on me. I'm in their spotlight. Their attention is finally on me, but no light is bright enough to fight my darkness. So they finally turn them off, cause they've seen what they need to see. There is nothing wrong with me. I'm fine.

It isn't their fault. It's mine. They can't see what's wrong because I'm not showing them what's wrong. As long as I'm breathing, I'm okay. I'm not allowed to have any more problems. It's my own fault for being so weak. Too weak to fight the thoughts controlling my body, stopping me from exposing the demons that have taken over my mind.

I'm not drowning. I'm dying, and nobody is there to save me.