Stagnant

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-"