Depression was a mental illness. The actual definition was:
A state of constant sadness and loss of interest, stopping and affecting normal activities.
Based on that definition, I was depressed but depression is much more than just feeling sad and losing interest in every day activities. It affects everything and I mean everything.
Behaviour; appetite; self esteem; sleep; cognitive abilities. They all, and more, get affected by depression.
With the absolute feeling of worthlessness and uselessness, I was stagnant. The actual definition of stagnation is:
The state of not flowing or moving.
Now this word is only really used when it comes to water or the economy but I related to this word more so than depression.
I wasn't moving, I was stuck in the same place, mindset and numbness, forever still. I was stagnant in my own mind and body, not developing, not rising or falling, or growing or moving on. I was water in a blocked drain.
There was another sense in which I was stagnant, in which I wasn't moving, AKA, I wasn't falling.
I turned around to find the thing that kept me from plunging to my death in the freezing and deep menacing waters below, expecting to find a nail my mac has caught on or maybe even a fucking ghost trying to warn me to not jump off the bridge or else I would never cross the plane to the other side and be stuck forever, haunting this raggedy old bridge. However what I don't expect to find is a person.
My hazel eyes find the blue eyes in the night shining and illuminating in the darkness like sapphires. I can't see much else of their face, the darkness inhibits me but I can make out, and feel, the hand clutching both my mac and jumper, prohibiting any movement forward and holding me in place.
"What the fuck?" I growl out, trying to yank their hand off me but with the stability of the bridge -or lack of- and the little space to move between the edge of the planks and the handrail, I can't.
"Excuse me? I'm trying to save you from jumping and I'm greeted with 'what the fuck?'. Are you serious?" The blue eyed person, who I can decipher is a boy from the roughness and low pitch of their voice, grumbles, his sapphires narrowing in to slits as he tightens his grip.
Before I even know what's happening his other hand swings round my waist, lugging me over the splintering handrail with ease. He carries me, in his arm like a bag of sand, to the end of the bridge, dropping me not so gently on my feet.
"Did you think that maybe I didn't want to be saved?" I nearly yell, pushing at his chest to get away from me. Anger pulses through me. I had been planning this for months, knowing I wanted to kill myself until a few weeks ago when we were warned about Storm Joseph and its oncoming attack. It was perfect, it was like nature was giving me the perfect way to end my miserable life. No one would be out to see me walk towards the bridge and no one would be there to stop me. I could plunge in to the dark waters in peace with only my mind to ruin me further.
That was ruined though with this turd coming along.
"I just saved your life!" He yells back, grabbing my wrists tightly to stop me from pushing him again. "You can't just kill yourself- wait I know you."
Panic sprung up inside me like a jack-in-the-box, an alarm blaring in my head.
"No you don't." I shook my head wildly even though he couldn't probably see the action. Trying to pull my hands free from his restraint, I took a step back, my breathing coming out in panicked pants. "Look I don't want to kill myself anymore. It was a moment of madness. Thanks for saving me dude, I'm cured-"
His grip around my wrists tightened and he tugged me back to him so I stumbled in to his chest. His large hand cupped my cheek and held me in place, letting go of my wrists and rummaging through his pocket, pulling out his phone and shining the lit up screen towards my face.
The small light in my direction allowed me to see my 'saviour' or as I will call him my 'ruiner'. I kept the gasp in but I couldn't stop my eyes from widening.
My ruiner, the boy that 'saved' me -a very loose term- was none other than Jackson Ryder. He was in the year above me from high school, a popular guy and the captain of the rugby team. Like the sport suggests he was a pretty meaty guy, with biceps larger than the width of my body, rippling muscles and broad shoulders. No wonder he could lift me and carry me so easily, my eating habits probably helped him though considering I hardly ever felt hungry.
"Elizabeth..." His mouth parts while he mumbles the words above the rain, wind and river, his eyebrows furrowed furiously as he scanned and studied my numb, pale and thin face.
I knew what he was thinking. The girl he had seen -who everyone had seen- in high school had gone. For the entire year I hardly left the house, hardly let anyone see me. I once had a round face, chubbier cheeks, bright eyes and a smile. Now I adorned dull eyes that held no light or hope, a thin and highly malnourished face with no fat and all bones, under eye bags that I could easily win in a contest against a raccoon and a constant straight line for a mouth.
"Look at you..." He shook his head with his eyes screwed up. "No one has seen you in... I don't know how many months and now you're about to kill yourself?" He asks incredulously, accusing me and glaring at me. "Your parents have already lost-"
An angry scoff escapes my lips as I glare right back. "Don't you dare talk about my parents." I throw his hands off me, stepping away from him. "Don't you dare talk about that night! Don't you dare talk about him!"
His phone is still shining when he holds his hands up in surrender like you would a serial killer with a knife to show no harm. "I'm sorry... you can't do this Lizzy."
A clench, a pang, a slither of pain hits my heart, the first sign of pain, of being alive, that my body has shown in the longest time. I don't know whether to be relieved or even more broken that I do actually harbour some kind of emotion inside. "Please don't call me that."
He nods. "I won't call you that again if you come with me. Please."
Jackson Ryder wants me to go with him, to stop committing suicide, to stop his conscience and guilt from eating him alive. I understood it, how could a moral and seemingly nice person possibly leave someone alone while they're on the brink of suicide?
Just because I understood it didn't mean I would agree.
"No." I whisper in to the arctic wind, allowing my hair to whip across my face. "I'm done."
I've had a year to try and find some value in life but I came up empty and my depression kept coming back full force. It's pretty hard to try and find meaning when I can hardly lift my head off the pillow.
His footsteps walk towards me, his phone still shining in his hand, the backstreet of a rugby match I have no doubt he played in. "I can't let you do this."
'Why? You hardly know me! You only know what's happened to me!' I wanted to scream, to cry in to the freezing air and hit the ground sobbing, not being able to take lifes harshness much longer.
But I couldn't. I was numb.
"That's not my problem." I whisper instead with a small shrug, my lips stuck in their usual straight line.
Completely and utterly numb.
"Don't do this." He pleaded once again, a desperate look overtaking his face. "Let me prove to you that your life has more meaning. Let me show you that you don't have to commit suicide. Please. Just give me a chance." He sees my face before adding, "If you don't agree then I will just follow you around, making sure you cannot hurt yourself in anyway. I'll tell your parents and everyone else for that matter what I saw tonight."
I stared at him blankly for a moment, my mind overturning his idea. "And if you don't manage to prove to me? What then?"
He hesitates for the longest moment. I watched as his mouth opened and closed, his sapphire eyes closed tightly and then reopened, his shoulders slumping. "Then I'll leave you alone to commit suicide."
"Really?" I drawl out sarcastically, not believing him for a second.
His nodding head and deflated posture stun me for a second. "Yes. Really."
Narrowing my eyes, I study his face for any tells. "So if I still want to die by the end of this 'life has meaning charade' you'll let me go... you'll let me kill myself without interfering or stopping me?"
He glares at the ground for a few seconds before nodding. "Yes."
I shrug, holding my hand out for him to shake. "Fine but just so you know you're going to be wasting your time."
Death was inevitable, that was the sad truth. I hated death. It was a monster which snatched the thing most precious to me. It took something from me and then it plunged me in to depression, laughing mockingly at me. Death laughed as it took my rock from me. Death laughed when my depression started. Death laughed when my plan to leap in to its arms were foiled.
I hated death but in this instance... I was happy life ended, I was happy that death happened. With death, suffering and pain ends.
With death, my suffering and pain will end.
I'm going to die in the very near future and I couldn't be more relieved or happy about it.
I'm counting down the days.