Stagnant

Disgust

Before my life fell apart before my eyes, I always thought suicide was selfish. Suicide didn't rid the pain, it just passed it on to loved ones. Pain never ended, it just transferred to others -like how energy is never created or destroyed, it just converts from one form to another. That was pain.

How could someone feel so much pain and not believe that it would dwindle or anything would get better that the only conclusion to lessen the pain would be to take their own life?

I didn't understand it, maybe because I hadn't felt pain before in my life, I hadn't felt the soul crushing and agonising emotional pain that is so great that it causes physical pain -the pain that causes so much anguish that it feels like the world is caving in, collapsing and dying and it gets so great that you start to wish you were dead.

I had been secluded in a way. I was surrounded by family and friends, in my own bubble of happiness where nothing could hurt me. I was bubble wrapped. Things upset me, I had days that were lower than others but I always had my brother to make me feel better. He always made everything okay again even if things weren't okay.

My opinion of suicide changed after I lost Elliot. It wasn't selfish, it was an escape from a pain in which I could see no end to. It was the easier way out because committing suicide, dying, was better than living everyday in agonising torture. Because that's what it was, that's what losing my twin was. It was fucking agonising.

But after a while, after months of faking a smile, after my heart breaking and shattering day after day, after losing a part of myself, after feeling myself drowning every day with no way out while the waves of depression continued to pound against my weak body and mind, I became numb.

I was completely alone in a time where I didn't want to be alone. My parents were also grieving but during their sorrow and mourning they forgot that they also had another child that was still alive, with them. I became a distant memory while I withered and wasted away in my room separated from civilisation and along with my parents, everyone else forgot about me.

You can see why it's so weird then, considering that, why Jackson Ryder would stop me and try and convince me to not commit suicide.

"First stop of the Rugby tour is.... drumroll please." I stared at him blankly while he gestured to me before sighing in exasperation. "Gotta do everything myself. Okay drumroll... Exeter!"

I pursued my lips as we drove down the streets of Exeter. "You do realise I know that, right? We passed the 'You are now in Exeter. Please drive carefully' sign. We've been in Exeter for twenty minutes."

"You're a real buzz kill." He muttered before sending me a wide smile, pretending he didn't say anything while I rolled my eyes. "We are doing something extra special before going to see a rugby match later tonight."

"We?"

"Yes, we. Rugby is a team sport." He winked and I resisted the urge to throw up in my mouth.

"Rugby also is a sport that involves beefy men tackling each other in tight shorts. Are we going to do that aswell?"

"We certainly don't need to work on your sarcasm cos damn!" He tapped the steering wheel in a rhythmical beat.

We drove for about ten more minutes before he parked the car in a field that was used as a car park. He handed my bag to me and ushered me in to the toilets, telling me to wear leggings and an oversized top with a jacket.

I had no idea what we were doing on this trip, I had no idea what I was doing on this trip. Why did I agree to this again?

Oh yea because the motivational speaking hippy nerd blackmailed me.