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❝the hardest battles are the ones we fight within ourselves, with ourselves.❞
AFTER opening up to Sodapop and Steve, I almost immediately regretted it. I just felt like having my facade up was a lot easier. It sounds hypocritical, because before I only wanted someone to notice just how much I needed help, but now... I wish I had kept my emotional walls so high so that no one could climb them.
When I was asleep, Soda gathered Ponyboy and Darry for a family meeting. He explained what had happened, and after my second oldest brother was done explaining, my twin spoke up about how I opened up to him. I think it's safe to say that Darry told the gang, because I'm not allowed to be alone anymore.
Two-Bit usually looked after me. I didn't like it, though; it made me uncomfortable. Sure, I loved Two and thought he was an amazing friend, but I hated the fact that he was watching my every move. I could get up to pee or something like that and Two-Bit would yell, "Don't lock the door!" which I didn't like one bit.
I'm not saying it's his fault, because it isn't. It isn't Two's fault, or Johnny's. It's not Steve's fault, it's not Dally's fault and it's not Darry's fault. It's not Soda, either. It's not Pony. It's my fault, all because of my stupid decision to break down my walls and open up to people. It didn't feel right. I didn't want their pity; it felt horrible to me. Sure, I was depressed, but I didn't like the feeling of everybody suddenly looking out for me. It was a foreign concept, my mind wasn't processing the fact that anybody cared.
I had a really rough night last night, let me tell you. All of the boys had left and all of my brothers were sleeping, but I was just lying there, staring up at my ceiling. I felt numb. I had cared way too much about everything, and then in one fraction of a heartbeat, I couldn't feel anything at all.
It was my chance to escape. So I carefully slid out of bed, making sure I didn't wake up Ponyboy, and tiptoed out of my room. I grabbed the pack of cigarettes and Pony's lighter off of our little table in the room, and quietly made my way outside. I could hear Darry snoring, and Sodapop's door was open, so I could tell he was sleeping.
As I reached the front porch, I sat down in one of the rocking chairs on it. A cold wind blew and ruffled my brightly colored red hair, but I could have cared less about that. I looked at the moon and talked to my mom for awhile, which helped me get some sadness out, but not much. Honestly, everything now seems like a lost cause. I don't know how much longer I can take everything.
"Hey, Mom," I whispered softly, lighting a cigarette, "I'm worthless, and I know it. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to last, so you might wanna expect to see my face again soon. I miss you so much. I love you." my voice was cold. There was absolutely no expression in it whatsoever. I couldn't feel anything, either, no matter how hard I tried to.
The truth is, I didn't light the cigarette and put it in between my teeth. I don't smoke. I lit the cigarette and continuously pressed it upon the skin of my wrists, only wanting some pain to be taken away. It was my new way of grieving, I guess. Everyone has something that they become addicted to, and this burning sensation that I continuously forced myself to feel was my drug.
Everyday, I get one step closer to losing my shit. I know I'm getting closer to my death, and I'm totally fine with that. Fucking hell, I want to die. Nobody cares about me or how I feel, and I'm a bother to them. This world would just be a better place without me.
When I was done doing myself a favor, I pushed the suicidal thoughts away and focused up at the stars. It reminded me of the good ole days when my mom and my dad would take my brothers and me to the lot as a family. We'd play football (I always chose to be on Darry's team, I'll admit) until the sun went down, and then would look at the stars and constellations until we fell asleep and Mom and Dad had to carry all of us home.
"That's my sign, I'm a cancer!" Pony and I would both yell, giggling when we exchanged the same words. Soda would try to understand what we were talking about, but he just wouldn't be able to.
"And what am I, a Capricorn?" he'd ask, earning an eye roll from both Pony and me.
"No!" Ponyboy would shout, and I'd continue for him.
"You're a Libra, dummy!" I would exclaim, careful to watch my mouth in front of my parents. I guess I was even careful to watch what I said around Darry, too. He wouldn't purposely try and hurt me, I knew that, but boy, does he have a good build. He was tall and muscular and that could easily scare a girl like me.
Those days were amazing. Those were the days where I didn't have to worry about depression, or suicide, or any sort of fucking facade. Those were the days where I could be happy for no reason at all; I just simply was. Those were the days where I actually felt good about myself, and those were the days where I accepted who I was. Those were the days where I felt loved, and appreciated, for exactly who I was.
Oh, how times have changed. Now I'm just living in some sort of sad, dull reality. I'm living in an unaccepting world.
Quietly and carefully, I put out the cigarette, made my way inside, threw it away, and tiptoed into my bedroom. I then threw on a long sleeve track t-shirt and made my way to the bed, lying down ever so gently. I put on a fake, tired grin and covered myself with the blanket, making sure no one could see my scars. I was excited to sleep.
It would be my only escape from reality until I had the courage to find a permanent solution.
hey guys, just to let you know, suicide is not a joke and i understand that. if you're ever feeling even the slightest bit sad, you can always come and talk to me.
national suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255.
a/n: you matter. please stay. i love you. remember there is a light at the end tunnel. if it's not okay, it's not the end. the national suicide prevention lifeline is 1800-273-8255.
