Steven Suptic Oneshots

9 Years Ago

Requested by N/A 

In honor of today's date November 8th, I’m writing something different. What I am writing is coming from my perspective. This is less of a Steve oneshot and more of a me oneshot.

Disclaimer: Today is actually a really hard day for me. Today 9 years ago my life changed and not for the better. Please be respectful about this. Also I almost never write in first person. 

WARNING: Angst, Depression, Guilt, Chronic Pain, Depression, Self-loathing, anxiety
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Nobody ever talks about the guilt you feel. I'm not talking about the guilt of doing this bad thing and now I have to feel bad for it. I'm not even talking about the guilt of saying the wrong thing. I’m talking about the guilt of just living. The guilt of having to make your family suffer because you can't handle the pain. The guilt of not being strong enough. It eats away at you inside. I pretend that I am okay for as long as I can, but when the pain gets worse I let it all go. I cry to the ones I love. I break down. I cry because it isn't fair. Why do I have to suffer? Why must I be in so much pain I can't walk? Why must I have to have so much pain that I can't function? I cry as I can't hold back anymore. 

The feeling of worthlessness fills my veins and I try to push the feeling away. It doesn't work. I feel trapped. I can't escape it. I'm destined to suffer. Nothing I do helps ease the pain. Everyday it gets worse, the pain increases and it makes everything a whole lot harder. I promised that this time I would be more open, but everytime I'm open about it being worse I can see the pain. I can see the tears that fill my mother's eyes. The tears that are caused by me, because she can't fix me. I see the tears and I feel worse. I ask why she doesn't respond and she says she feels like a failure of a parent. It breaks my heart. So I keep a lot more to myself than she knows. I can't tell her that my mind is turning deadly to me. It would make things worse. 

I stay quiet about all the thoughts swirling in my mind. The thoughts about not being good enough. I want to have some relief but it never comes. I have to be okay though. I have to pass school. I have to get good grades despite the fact that I am suffering. I have to take medicine that doesn't help one bit. I have to eat and drink despite the pain it causes. I have to breathe despite the pain because I have to live. I have to do so much and for what? To be in agony. How is that fair? Nothing is ever fair anymore. As I sit on my bed thinking about how my life has gone astray. I remember one thing, nobody understands. That adds another kick to the blow. Nobody knows how it feels to be in so much pain it kills a part of you. Taking away an innocence that you can't get back. It kills a part that you didn't know you would need. It kills your faith. You begin to not care about anything. 

I have welcomed the idea of death since I was a child because it is the only real escape I will get from the pain. I don't want to die, but I don’t want to live. Not like this. Nobody should have to live like this. I have lost friends and family because they don't get it. They say they believe but then they leave and say it was all for show. They say that you want attention because you are jealous. They make you feel bad about having to suffer. It makes you wish even more you didn't have this. It makes you want this all to be fake. For you to be crazy, to be faking it all. But alas, nothing goes the way you want it too. It isn't fake and you have to live with the pain. 

I have to put on a smile. I have to be okay. I have to pretend just a little while longer. Just until I get the new doctors. Until I can try something different. I have to ignore the burning crushing feeling of guilt swirling in me. I keep myself in check. When I start to think bad, I beat myself up. I can't let myself get bad, but the strain is only hurting me. I wish I could just stay in bed all day and tell everyone how I really feel. I want to tell everyone that I'm not okay and I haven't been for a while. Yet, I can't. The words are stuck in my throat. I bite my tongue until it bleeds. The taste of blood is a reminder of the words unsaid. Words that I can't say. My screams are silent and often let out with tears. My frustration is with myself, the pain, and the shitty situation. I hate myself for having something out of my control. I tear myself down because I have nothing else to do. Nothing helps. I hurt all the time. I just want a little bit of ease. I just need a small break. I feel I might snap in half. 

A lump is in my throat. I try to bring myself to tell my mom about the fact my body feels weak. That the headaches are back. I can't. The look on her face when I said it was as bad as when I first relapsed killed me inside. She looked guilty. Like it was somehow her fault. As if this condition is her fault. It isn't. I try to tell her that, but she doesn't ever listen. So I stay quiet. I walk away from her and I sit on the couch. As I sat on the couch I realized something. Nobody ever talks about the guilt you feel. The guilt I am feeling right now and have been feeling since I was 8. The guilt you get from having your loved ones watch you suffer with chronic pain. The guilt that makes you want to stay silent. The guilt that keeps me from speaking up. The guilt that was part of my demise. The guilt that caused me to put in my earbuds and let my body shut down. The lack of sleep was already a lot so why force myself to stay awake. 

When I woke, it was to my step, no my dad, putting a blanket over me and patting my head. I let myself go back to sleep. When I woke up again. I went to my bed and I laid down. I stared up at the ceiling. I didn't think about anything, I was too tired. I had plugged my phone in and I watched some clips of my favorite streamers. It lulled me to sleep again. It was never a decent sleep. The most decent sleep I get is when my body is so exhausted it shuts down and I crash on the couch for a couple of hours. When I wake up in the morning, one thing is on my mind. Today is the day, 9 years ago, when my life changed. When I got my chronic pain condition. When I had felt the sensation that had started it all. 9 years ago, I lost my innocence. 9 years ago, I lost my childhood. 9 years ago, I had to learn how to be strong. 9 years ago, I had no idea how the journey would break me down. 

Over half of my life has been full of suffering. It is a day I will never forget. That day changed everything I knew. I might be a better person but at what cost? 

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A/N: This took a lot out of me to write. These are genuine emotions I have been feeling. This is all real. This is a hard thing to share for me. I have had a lot of things help my morale. One of them being, all the support from you guys. Thank you. Writing is a passion for me. It is an escape from my life, from the pain I feel everyday. Hearing all the kind words about how good my writing is means a lot. Lots of love.