Stagnant

Despair

‼️Disclaimer‼️
This chapter contains the sensitive topic of self harm. If you don't feel comfortable then please skip to the next chapter x

Happiness never lasts.

Everything must end, happiness included.

What goes up comes back down.

As soon as a fraction of contentment or happiness is achieved it's snatched right out of our fingers. It's like trying to catch smoke with our bare hands. We think we've caught it but it slips right through our fingers.

We're happy, on a sort of cloud nine, before we plummet to the surface.

Glueing a broken plate back together doesn't fix it.

Sleep is the best thing in the world; there's no pain; no tears; no problems. Everything just slips in to nothingness and just for a little while... there is peace.

I found no peace. Sleep enticed me but sleep didn't want me. I tried, I tried so freaking hard to fall in to that nothingness, to forget about everything for just a few hours, to finally feel some kind of peace from the demonic thoughts that rampaged my mind but it was useless.

Sleep didn't want me. Sleep let the demons in and laughed at my pain.

I didn't know how long I was staring at the ceiling of the hotel room. It wasn't interesting, just plain white but my depression and the thoughts didn't allow me to do anything else. I lay awake while my mind turned against me. I lay awake while I slowly die inside.

I try to occupy my thoughts, to stop the spiral of depression my mind was turning in to. The trampoline park Jackson and I went to, how fun it was, the play fights we had in the foam pits, the game of volleyball we joined in on and the friends Jackson made. Everywhere he goes he just attracts people, making friends while I stick by his side silently and awkwardly. I tried to think about the book I read as Jackson watched the Northampton rugby team play but nothing stopped the rampage. Nothing could stop the horrific and mind numbing thoughts my mind conjured up and whispered to me.

The pain, the thoughts, the depression, the guilt, the regret, the heartache. It all got too much. It overwhelmed me, washing over me again and again like I was stuck in the middle of the ocean, my back against a mountain of jagged rocks while the tide and the waves crashing in to me, pushing and smacking me down until I was drowning. I was drowning; I was dying.

It was too much.

Before I even realised what was happening, my feet carry me to the bathroom, my fingers wrapping around the metal blade that I had brought from home. A pounding drum settled in my chest, blood rushed past my ears as if I was standing right next to a waterfall.

The pain inside is too much, it hurt so much, my head throbs and my heart aches. I need a release, I need to stop the torture. This was the only way.

I barely wince as I watch the red substance trickle down my hand, to my fingers, falling like rain drops to the bathroom tiles, my eyes mesmerised as the red splashed on the white. The pain in my heart dims, the thumping in my head lessens. Each cut relieves the pain. Each splash of blood calms the storm in my mind.

The sting of the cut calms the venomous words and the sharp ache in my chest. Blood for peace; that was the bargain.

New cuts join the old and healed cuts, white raised lines on my pale skin. Both wrists littered with scars.

I can't help but feel ashamed at the sight of them. Elliot wouldn't have wanted me to cut myself but I can't help it. This is the only way to relieve the pain in my chest, the only way to dim the voices in my head.