requested via tumblr.
serious subject matter. please read if you feel you can handle mentions of self harm and such.
These four walls are getting old. It's all too much, you've practically counted every single tile and the spaces in between. You've chipped away enough of the green paint that covers the once white walls. How much longer can you do this? This is not you, this depression doesn't own you and how can you get passed this? This, you don't even know why you feel this.
You had moved past this. It's been since middle school, sixth grade. Why now? You had moved passed this. You are an adult now. You can literally change this, why can't you now? This sinking feeling, you want it gone. You want to feel better.
It's so stupid. This has gotta give. This has gotta stop, it's gotta go.
This is not you. Everyone knows this but apart of you, you just want the taste to be missed. To be gone, to not be here and you want to escape. You want this freedom. You are moving forward and away from this. Why now? Why fucking now?
Your fingers dance across the scars left behind, how long ago was this? Last time you remember self harming, it was middle school.
Some stupid breakup you had invested all your happiness into. All the eggs in the basket for, you loved him. A lot more then you ever thought.
Where did the emotions even come from? Why the fuck are you crying? Ugh, fuck.
"I'm not okay."
Sighing, you look to the window and watch the birds outside.
Singing and flying around, the sun bright and beautiful. Doesn't match your mood at all, why can't you be this happy? Those birds have the right idea. All you wanna do is cry and express emotions.
Yet, you just want to say you're fine. You don't want pity or sympathy. It's just.
It's just easier to lie.
Every scar and mark on your arm, the show the true intentions and the things you hold on too. You just wish, you wish you could stop this feeling feel free. Happy, it hurts to see everyone else have this perfect life. It's like a smack in the face, you just want to stop it. Make it all stop, can you? Without damaging anything else?
"I'm better off dead."
Sighing, laying back on the bed with a huff as you stare at the ceiling once again counting the cracks and crevices again. You don't know why, the last time you did this. The number was 10, it's not like the cracks are gonna add up or lower.
"They are gonna all miss me when i'm gone. When i get the courage to do this."
If you ever do.
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Spencer raises an eyebrow at you, you are in the world of your own. Picking at the black nail polish, completely uninterested in everything around you. He doesn't even know if you have realized he had stopped speaking. He was telling you about some bad date, how awful it was but the moment he figured out you weren't listening. He stopped, worried about you more now then before.
It's been a month, he isn't sure what's going on. He knows thing had been tough for you, everything going on around you. The life you knew around you readjusting. He had lost track, but he knows seeing you here. The dark circles under your eyes covered by some eyeliner that's now smeared from the fact you had been rubbing it.
He knows things are worse. He also knows he hasn't been there for you. Life's been hectic for him too. It's been insane with the start of his band picking up, things getting even more insane at the fact he is being discovered by labels.
He also knows what that means with you. You are about to lose him being there for you. He can't count on one hand how many times he has been your saving grace. He adores you and he loves you, more ways then you will ever know. He doesn't want to admit that, he's been your friend since diapers. You grew up together.
It took high school to see you in a different light. He's sorry for that, he knows how much you liked him then. He wouldn't admit that then but he knew. It was obvious. He isn't sure now, but he knows as your best friend. He won't let you feel this way now. He won't let this demon you've carried around win.
Spencer bumps his shoulder into yours, your attention coming to him as you shift and throw your hands in your lap.
"Spence, i'm so sorry. I dazed out. I'm so sorry. I promise i didn't mean too."
He isn't mad, really. He's sure the facial expression says other wise. He isn't good at expressing his mood via facial expressions.
He's gotten used to just being quiet. His band requires him to be this character he isn't. He has to learn to break character honestly.
He needs too.
"Go on. Please. I'm so sorry."
His hand comes to rest on yours, "Don't be sorry. It's okay. Something is going on, what's wrong?"
Shifting in your seat, you shake your head. It's not his problem and it's not his issue. You have handled this for years. Alone. You don't need to bring him down with you. It's okay. He doesn't need to hear you and your issues.
You don't want to talk about it. He needs to just let it go. It's fine.
You don't want to talk about it. He needs to get that.
"Hey, come on. Talk to me. Like we used too."
His brown eyes fill with sorrow and worry, "Please. Let me in, let me back in."
He doesn't know what to expect. He doesn't know.
He just wants you to let him in. He wants in.
"Spence, please just let it go. Okay?"
He nods, a hand coming to pull you into his embrace. His head resting a top of yours, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He just needs to show you, he isn't leaving. He'll be your biggest supporter and he'll do all it takes. All he can to prove otherwise.
