The Loving and The Loathing

Intrusive Thoughts and Suicide

She walks in circles listening to bad rap music although shes not paying any attention to the songs. Her attention is captured by an unwanted thought.

She walks faster, hoping to release the urge to look around her. She tries to hear the lyrics of her song. All she can hear are the sound of bullets. She wants to run but she controls herself, looking at the flyers on the wall instead. She can no longer read the words, the music bothering her train of though. Ripping her headphones out, violently enough to burn her eardrums; Finally, she gives in and surveys her surroundings. Checking behind her three times, then to her side, twisting her head around and around until she accepts the reality of it all. She is safe, but her heart beats faster. She trembles and fumbles trying to put her headphones back in her ear, as she should.

She should be listening to her music, walking around the school and past her classroom door repeatedly until it is time for class to start. Instead, she is sitting on the floor of a college hallway on the other side of school, staring at her left leg. There is nothing to stare at. Nothing abnormal, she focuses on the light hair and remembers that she was supposed to shave her legs. This thought alone sends her into a race of empty thoughts. She tries to keep up with it, trying to find reason in it. She is breathing heavy and she can feel herself rocking but she can't stop. Her vision isn't rocky, but she knows that she is making a fool of herself. Afraid of submitting herself to the fetal position, she forcefully grabs her hair and pulls hard enough to rip some out-and jolt her back to reality.

Unknowingly, she sits for a while. She has no concept of time, she can barely recognize where she is. Still focusing on her legs, she feels calm enough to continue her day as she should. She searches for her phone, and when she notices that it is not in her direct line of sight- she is instantly afraid of herself again. She doesn't want to get worked up again, but she knows that she can't help it, every little thing affects her so much more than it should. She is about to cry until her phones vibrates. She picks it up and her heart stops-her class is going to start in 5 minutes. Without a second of hesitation, she is running across the school. School does that to her. It makes sense to her, she knows how to do it. She knows to calm her breathing before walking in the door, she knows to walk in slowly and quietly. To smile at the teacher and set her now half empty coffee cup slowly on the desk because metal is loud in quiet classroom. Finally, she closes her eyes and tries her hardest to wipe her mind to prepare for history notes.

When she opens them again, she can hear the teachers voice and the sound of pens. The sound of pen on paper, it is so loud. She is getting flustered with every scratch and movement. She is flustered-when she looks around her, she sees eyes on her and can feel her red face burning more with every second. Her thoughts blast in her head, louder than pens or voices or a metal cup on a desk. They are almost louder than the sound of gunshots. Her thoughts are angrier than heavy feet on pavement or heavy rap music. She remembers everything. All in one breath, she is consumed. She remembers why she heard gunshots, why she had to look around her, she remembers her leg. Her non-shaven leg. The one that she couldn't shave because she was afraid of herself. She didn't trust herself enough to shave without cutting her wrists. She remembers recognizing that feeling when she saw her leg. She couldn't put her finger on it, she pushed it too far away-she sees it now. Her own body is mocking her. Thoughts like this leave her just as fast as they come because if they didn't-she wouldn't know what to do. Briefly she wonders what she is "remembering" why that is the word that comes to mind when thinking of all of this. Why is she "remembering" something that just happened? There shouldn't be any digging involved. But she knows that she is too disciplined to hold onto those things, she had already buried the last hour in her mind. She isn't used to recalling things like this, she is too good at hiding it from herself. She is scared now. She feels that she is breaking herself with every thought. This isn't how this is supposed to happen. These should be locked away now. She is trying to sort it all, create a timeline. But even that doesn't help her understand. She has trained herself to shake these thoughts off. When she can't, she reacts as if they are real. She wanted to fall to the ground as if she had been shot, she wanted to search the entire school for the people that were following her. But she knows that its not real. Its not real. It was never real. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom in what she thinks was English. Another thought floats into the air, she can't even comprehend, its in another language. But she can feel it. She scrunches her face, this does nothing, but she can't help it. She instinctively closes herself into a stall. On the floor she sprawls out. For a moment, she feels dirty. That feeling is dismissed when she closes her eyes and loses her breath. She opens them again and she is bleeding from her wrists, her leg, her eyes, she can feel herself leaving her body.

She is gone. Her empty body stands and walks back to class. Her body sits through the class-silent and still. It follows the day as it should, as she should. It understands nothing, sees nothing, hears nothing. It knows nothing. Her body walks across the bridge, something she does often. It looks over.

The body shakes with feeling, something is has lacked for hours now. It fights it. Tries to continue on. The feelings and thoughts probe it. Suddenly, she takes a breath. She could jump, the first thought that she has known in more than two hours. Jump off the bridge, the water looks nice. She tries to shake it off, by actually shaking. She trembles as people walk around her, oblivious. She tries to forget, move on. But she can't move, she is fixed on the water. She stops herself from moving now, she knows what will happen if she takes a step in any direction. Shaking it off is not an option anymore, all she can do is stop it. She stands there for a long time, trying to wipe her memory. Forget it all. She doesn't want to be responsible for what happens next. She relives the feeling of her death-though not real yet. She just wants to be gone again, let her empty body control this. She can't stop it. She can't stop. She can't stop moving. Shes walking towards the edge. She can see the blood on her wrists from the bathroom in another attempt to leave this to her empty self. Why does she have to live through this? She can see the bullet in her leg, shed rather live through it in her head again and again and again. She is teetering on the edge now.

She pushes it all away. She imagines it gone. She imagines her gone. She is running out of options now. She is gone-again. The water feels good. Its freezing and she likes her limbs getting stiff. She likes not struggling. Shes tired of struggling. She doesn't have to anymore. Shes gone. Her body does not continue her day. Her body is gone with her. She couldn't fix it or stop it. Her thoughts are the only proof that she didn't want this, that it wasn't planned. She didn't tell anyone that these thoughts burdened her often. She didn't talk to anyone about it. She is the only one that knows what its like and now, what its capable of. And now, shes dead. Her intrusive thoughts gone with her, along with her love, laughter and personality.

Sometimes what they should be asking isn't "are you okay?" because the answer will always be "yes." Being okay is relative. Its general. She thought that she could control it, she thought that she was okay. The question that should be asked is "are you ever not okay?" because the moments that she isn't, are the ones that matter the most. Those are the ones that will tear her down. That will control her and make her see her reality as something toxic. Those moments will kill her. She can control it, she is okay, until she isn't anymore. And now she isn't okay anymore because she is not anymore.