Growing up (Get Scared Fanfic)

My Only Retreat

Nick's Pov. 

After school, all i did was lay in my bed and listen to music. I should try to write a song for Brad. He seemed so excited for me to agree to being in a band with him, I can't just fail him already. But wait... my plans. I was gonna kill myself. I can't do that now. He was nice enough to sit with me at lunch and to make me his friend, I should at least keep myself alive in return.

I picked up my notebook and opened it to a blank page. I grabbed a #2 pencil off my night stand. The rest of the pages were crappy half written songs, me just writing down my emotions and thoughts, drawings and torn pages where i stabbed my pen in to, to try to not hurt myself. It helps me let out the urge without actually doing it to myself. I took my pen and tried to think about what to write about. I don't want the first thing that Bradley reads from me to be me whining about my emotions, so i'm stumped. I don't know what to do. I should go to the tree house deep inside the woods behind my house. I'm not sure how it got there, but I've never seen anyone else in there so i guess whoever built it must have moved. I closed my journal and went downstairs.

I left my house through the backdoor and entered the forest. The cool air touched my face. It feels nice. As i walked through the trees, I looked up to see how the sunlight would shine in between the small gaps the leaves made. Every step I took crushed the dry leaves and twigs under me. I like it here; it helps me get away to think and clear my head. There's no annoying traffic sounds, no jerks calling me a freak, no mom yelling at me for my crappy grades, just the sounds of the birds and the wind brushing the trees. Of course it's not always so nice here; this is also where i come to breakdown. No one knows about this place, so no one can hear me cry like the whining baby i am. This is my only retreat, where i can feel whatever my mind wants me to, without the fear of being judged. Whenever my parents ask me where i had gone, I say, 'I just went for a walk.'

I finally arrived to my destination, the random, possibly unstable tree house I've been coming to for the last 8 months. I put my notebook in my mouth and began to climb the wooden steps. Step by step, I made my way up the tree. I pushed open the hatch, when the journal fell out of my mouth. It hit the floor 15 feet below me. I made my way back down the tree until i was back at the bottom. I can't even hold on to one journal. I mean it's not that hard. I keeled down to pick up my notebook, then went back up.

I should be good now. I'm by myself, in my favorite place, with my notebook. I opened my journal to a pre-written song. This one is not about me so maybe i can just finish and edit it without being questioned and called depressed. I'm not depressed, I'm just sad a lot, and have an awful self esteem, think everything is pointless in life, and never feel like doing anything because i don't find any interest in anything anymore. I don't need help, which is what depressed people need. I'm fine. Even if i want to kill myself on most days, I'm fine. 

This song was about my friend from last year, who decided take a whole bottle of pills. I wrote it the week after she died. So the sad tone to this is going to be viewed as a natural human response to the loss of a loved one, rather than an emo kid who can't handle being picked on every once in awhile. I won't be checked for cuts on my wrists, or sent to the counselor's office... hopefully. So what i have now.

" I tried to save her, but no matter what i did, she only saw flaws in her reflection on the wall. I told her she could be a model, but because of the people who told her lies, she took me by surprise, by ending her own life.

We used to count the stars under the sky. She never thought that she would learn to fight, so she threw away the fight. She threw away the fight. And left us all behind. So i sit alone beneath the starless sky."

I'm actually kinda proud of this one, but it's still shit. I bet if I gave this to Tom DeLonge, or Billie Joe Armstrong, so one of them could rewrite it, it would be a thousand times better. But whatever, I should finish it anyways. Where's my pencil? I looked around me. Nothing. I got up to see if I sat on it. Nothing. I patted myself down. And once again, no pencil. Are you kidding me? How could I have forgotten it. I had it in my fucking hand in my room. I let out a sigh of frustration. There has to be at least one pencil or pen, or even a marker in here. I looked under the blankets and pillows i snuck in here, but there was no writing utensil to be found. I'm such an idiot. My trip here was completely pointless. I don't even have my cassette player to listen to music.

My parents are probably home by now, so if I go home to get something, they probably won't let me leave again. They'll say "No Nick it's too cold!" "Nicholas your grades are too low, you better get studying." "Nicki, I think we should get you a therapist"  And I don't feel like staying inside, studying, or having to argue about why I don't need therapy, because I'm perfectly fine, wanting to die. I don't need a therapist to ask me "How are we on a scale of one to ten?" "Can you tell me what you see?" "Do you wanna talk about it" "How does that make you feel" or the more interrogating parts like "Have you ever took a blade to your wrist?" and "have you been skipping meals" then saying "We're gonna try something new today" See i know what goes on in those therapy sessions, so why would i need therapy. I can answer that right now. On a scale of one to ten, i'm at a negative 2. All i see is darkness and hate. No I don't want to talk about it. It makes me feel uncomfortable. No, I've never taken a blade to my wrist, but I've thought about it. Yes, i have skipped many meals. Why do I need to tell that to someone who is getting paid to listen to my first world problems. It's pointless. What are they gonna tell me? Oh, you see, negative 2 is actually not a number between 1 to 10 you should pay more attention in school.

I ended up just staying staying in the tree house until it started getting dark. I walked home in the cold as quickly as possible, because it got cloudy and it looks like it might rain. Once i got home, it was 6:30.

"Nick, are you hungry?" My mom asked me, as i walked in. "Your dad and I already ate, sorry we didn't wait"

This means they won't realize if i eat or not so I can 'skip this meal.'

"No, and it's ok" I answered.

"We'll when you want to eat, there's spaghetti and meatballs in the fridge." She explained.

"Ok thanks, mom" Now to go upstairs and try to sleep off the hunger.

(A/N. The little bit of song in here is fully written by me.)