Push (Josh Ramsay)

It started with a handgun

Josh's POV

Tw: Mentions of self harm.

I opened up my songbook.
I needed to write.
I missed Mabel.
But I was so tired of us destroying each other.
I sighed and began scribbling the words that had been replaying over and over in my head.

You were the first to knock me down
In a way I guess we're even now
And I know I only used that first to justify
But maybe that's not just a lie
who knows

Little bit, little more, There's something missing
I'm missing the point I did before

I'm sorry that I'm always the one to make you feel that burn
And I feel so ashamed
This used to be easy
(I feel so low)
But I want you to know
That I won't let go again
(I feel so low)

I continued scribbling jumbled thoughts across the pages until I couldn't take it anymore. I ran across my room and began digging through my drawer looking for release. I couldn't seem to find them and began to grow more frantic. I cursed under my breath and switched drawers. I plunged my hand into the worn dresser, aching for that familiar feeling. When my hand hit what felt like metal I sighed a breath of relief, that is until I realized what I was touching. A bullet casing from when I was 14. I had gone to a shooting range with a family friend and shot a gun for the first time. I kept the casing as a reminder. That was the first I had truly realized the dangers within my own mind. As I held that gun, dangerous thoughts flashed by, and for the first time, I realized the fragility of life. My self destructive thoughts literally started with a handgun, and for some reason I kept a bitter reminder of it.

I began to grow more frustrated as my searches turned up empty. Not one sliver of relief could be found in that dresser. Still desperate, I moved onto the desk below my window. Hot tears stung at my eyes while I rifled through the contents my desk. My body trembled in fear. I was terrified of who I'd once again become. I could no longer function without the things that destroyed me, I could no longer function without Mabel. My search led me to a yellowed piece of paper addressed to me. I wearily opened it, unsure of the contents, and nothing could have prepared me for what I had begun to read.

I traced each word with my finger as it stabbed me in the heart. I dragged my eyes across the desperate scrawls, my breath growing increasingly labored and sparse. I was suffocating in my own mind. This was all my fault. I reached the last line and my entire body went limp, I could no longer hold up the weight of my head, or the weight of my heavy soul. As my consciousness slipped away, I repeated her final words...

I love you.