The boy underneath the stars // H.J + L.M

Chapter 57

I retract my hand just in time, realising what I'm doing. Clenching my fist tightly to stop myself.

Fuck Jisung, don't start this again

People will find out, they'll start to worry, they'll tell me that I need to stop and they won't understand. It will only make it worse.

I try to convince myself not to do it, clenching my hand in a fist tightly, nails digging into my skin.

"If you really can't stop it, squeeze ice between your fingers, it'll distract you."

Minho once told me that, and I groan, pulling my hair harshly, "Well there's no goddamn ice in here is there?" I mutter, my teeth sinking down in my bottomlip.

I try everything to distract myself, tapping my feet on the floor, pulling my hair, biting my lips, pinching my skin. Nothing is good enough.

I need something else, now. I'm going crazy and I don't know what I'm going to do if this goes on any longer.

But the urge to do something stupid, anything really, doesn't go away.

"Please stop please stop please stop." I mutter, counting the bathroom tiles one by one as I rock back and forth nervously.

I'm not sure what's happening, but something needs to.. change. Or stop, distract me, anything really.

I need to write it down, now.

I quickly push myself up from the cold ground, reaching for the door handle. Stumbling to my room past a confused Felix and Jeongin, who's stares follow me until I close my bedroom door.

I snatch the notebook from under my mattress, opening it on a random blank page in the middle. Writing down every single thing that comes to mind. I'm not even sure what it is I'm writing down, but after ten minutes of frantic scribbling of my pen against the paper, the whole page is filled with black letters.

Randomly, messily written all over the page.

Some singular sentences, other longer paragraphs, some darker than others. All my deepest and darkest thoughts gathered in one book.

If this is heaven what the hell is hell?
What's the difference I really can't tell.
I'm burning in the flames of my own dispair, with my thoughts as gasoline
I can not be repaired.

The better times are the worst,
the times were I don't feel as bad as normal, but I can't feel completely fine.

I can't feel completely fine because I know It's only a matter of time before I fall back into it again.

I'm constantly living in fear of what's going to happen next. I know it will get worse again, soon, but not exactly when.
It'll happen in an instant, I'll feel completely fine one moment. Only to be stuck the next. Suddenly all motivation is gone, suddenly I'm crying and I can't seem to stop. Suddenly the feeling is gone.
Suddenly I'm numb again.

Theres this nagging feeling pulling on me from inside my body, I'm my stomach, my chest, my throat.
Like something is missing.
There's no emotion, no stress, I don't care about anything anymore. I don't enjoy doing anything anymore.

I'm death on the surface, but I'm screaming underneath.
Everything is heavy.
Every sound is too loud, every silence is too quiet.
Every smile is exhausting, every word is unspoken.
No, I don't want to die
I just want to live.

Its like a darkness that creeps under your skin, which makes you see things completely different

I've got the constant idea every move I make is being watched.

One minute I've got the idea I'm better than everyone, and the next I hate myself. I think I don't deserve anyone.

In the beginning I kept telling it to leave me alone, but I've gotten used to it.

Whenever it's gone for a moment I feel anxious, like my guideline is gone. I find myself begging for it to come back.

I've gotten attached to it. It's the only thing that completely understands me, and can help me.

It keeps telling me it loves me, and it wants to help me.

I could be pretty, it says. Just not like this. If I would just lose weight, wear different clothes, change my makeup. I could be pretty.

Whenever I overeat, it scolds me, tells me it hates me. I'm not good for anything. Why can't I just listen to it?

It's always there to pick up the pieces of the mess I made.

"Without me, you're useless." It says.

It helps, writing everything down and reading it after. It makes my mind feel more organised. Instead of just in my head, all the thoughts forming together in one big web of screams and judgements. I'm able to actually think about it.

It calms me down.

I mindlessly flip through the pages, stopping as I end up on one from a few weeks ago, from just before I gave up.

I don't think you get it.
I don't regret it one bit, I love seeing the blood drip down my body. I love feeling the hot water sting against the fresh cuts.  I love watching my scarred body in the mirror.

I treat myself poorly on purpose, I shower so hot that my skin will turn red and itchy. I force myself to stay up late every night so that I'll feel like shit the next day.

I'll starve myself to death or keep on eating when I already feel like my stomach is going to explode.

I push people away from me knowing it will hurt me.

I'm psychotic, I'm broken.

I'm not even sure if I want to be okay again.

I'm scared to be okay again.

I don't deserve to be okay, I don't deserve anything, any of it.

What is happening to me?

I frown at reading those words, did I actually write that? Am I that fucked up?
Sighing, I place the notebook back under the mattress, making sure to hide it properly.

No one can ever see this.

"God why can't I just be normal?"

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A/n

I feel like the main ship of this story is Jisung x depression instead of Minsung lol

I'll try to write more Minsung moments soon I promise :)