Okay, for all of you who are currently reading my story, you know I haven't updated in a while. That's because of writer's block. So, to help cure my block, I started this. It wasn't supposed to be publised, but then I got so into it and now I just have to. It started out 1st person, but then I realized 2nd person was so much better. Sorry for mistakes. I'm supposed to be asleep so I don't have a lot of time to fix errors. I don't think there too bad though.
This is not for people who aren't emotional. You really need to have depth to truly understand this one-shot. It takes place during the Eli "suicide" scene. It's complicated, and I don't even understand what it's about. But that's kind of the point.
Disclaimer- I do not own Degrassi.
The wheel feels hollow. Like nothing is inside of it. Like, if you use all your strength and squeeze it, the black interior will just melt until the two sides come in contact. And as you turn the wheel and enter a new street with new stores and new people, you remind yourself that you're just turning something hollow.
The inside of your chest is pounding hard. You can practically see the outburst ripping through your thick jacket, as if whatever is forcing it to become so wild is trying to escape into the outside world. You refuse to let it go. Not for your own sake, but for its. This world is an ugly place. People say things and then they act like it never happened. People hold your heart in their hands, cradle it, and then crush it so hard it turns into dust, whipping into the air and dissolving before your own eyes.
You press my foot on the gas pedal and go faster. You know you're going at least 20 mph over the speed limit, but you can't find any good will inside your broken heart to make yourself slow down. Everything else seems to be moving so fast, so why should you just be a follower? The whole world is nothing but a blur of images passing before you, so quickly that they all become one. And then, you're somehow expected to use your heads and remember every detail of every million pictures.
You're mad. Your face is becoming red, and your lungs are starting to rip, and your brain is beginning to turn an ominous shade of gray. They're like clouds in the sky. You know that they're trying to tell you duck and cover, hide yourself from the storm about to attack, but you can't help but want to see the rain flood the streets, the lightening thrust down trees, the thunder acting as an earthquake and making everything shake. You can't help but hunger to watch all the damage with a front row seat, and know, with pride, that it's because of you. That everything is because of you.
Why do people want love so much anyway? There's nothing good about it. Even when you're "happy", you always worry about that one person, lose sleep about whether or not there safe and warm, happy or hungry, together or falling apart. And then, just when you start to think that maybe it's all worth it, they go ahead and rip you to shreds. They throw you off a bridge and watch your body parts split apart with laughing eyes. They don't care that you're dying, or that you don't see a pointing getting up in the morning. No, all they care about is their own life. Their stupid family, and their stupid friends, and their stupid self. They're all just stupid.
But the worst part is that even though you hate her, even though you want to take your fist and plunge it into her face, you can't help but think that she's the most beautiful thing to ever walk this Earth. That those laughing, cruel, eyes are the most incredible shade of blue. That her mouth, that mouth that spit out words evil enough to kill, are able to kiss your lips and make you forget about everything else.
You hate her, and you wish she were dead.
You love her, and the world would be nothing without her.
The gas pedal is touching the car floor now. Everything is going by as fast as though flash card images. Car horns scream at you to get a rip, people look at you and tell you to stop being so crazy. But you ignore them. Because the one time you finally gave in and listened to someone, finally let another voice inside of your head, they contaminated it with poisonous messages. And now you're slowly suffocating to death, and you're tired of this sluggish vanishing and just want to get it over with. You don't want to feel any pain. You want to die numb.
The lights in the distance make your eyes burn. They're so bright, so fierce and sharp, as though they're trying to push you the other way. You close your eyes tight enough that your whole face scrunches, but you can still feel them cutting through your veins. You try closing your eyes again, this time more softly. You let your head fall back against the headrest, something you know won't ever let you go, and focus on nothing but the sound of the distant world you're leaving behind.
You can't even remember your own name. That's a good sign. It means your leaving. The forceful wind that was there a minute ago has vanished, now replaced with a gentle breeze. You can feel its fingers lacing through your hair, its tiny feet brushing against your pant leg, its soft, damn good lips whispering soothing words in your ear. And you want to stay like this forever, with this beautiful piece of heaven holding you in its arms. But it won't last. This is just a teaser for what's to come next. If you stop now, you're just surrendering into the torturous world you once lived in.
You feel the welcoming arms tightening around your body, keeping you close. Warm breaths whisk over your face like a lullaby sung only by touch. This invisible body is so perfect, so enchanting, and you want nothing more than to open your eyes and see what it is that makes you feel this way. A voice inside your head tells you no, like a parent scolding their child for asking to eat a cookie before dinner. This isn't the right time, it keeps saying.
You hope that when you do reach wherever it is your headed, that this wonderful being will follow you there. Because you realize, as you twist your head so its hand can caress your cheek, that it won't be possible to exist, even as a dead man, without its love. This is all you need. Food and water mean nothing to you anymore. If you can't have this addicting touch all over your body, then you don't want to feel anything at all.
Eventually, the air rushes out of your lungs. It feels hollow, just like the steering wheel. You try to embrace it for the love your getting, but it hurts. You're empty. You're nothing.
Suddenly you grow scared. Thrusting your body forward and jolting your eyes open, the warm arms release you and fade away. You reach out into the dark night and try desperately to grab a hold of it again. The inside of your body has gone naked without its touch.
You release the gas pedal and slam down on the brakes. But the car keeps moving, faster and faster and faster. The world isn't even a blur of images anymore, just one picture that's there even when you look away. It's not something you can see, or describe, or feel. Its just there in existence, keeping you locked away, an invisible force that's stopping you from doing the right thing.
You try to scream but there's nothing left in your body to let out. You can't move your hands anymore. Your whole body has lost feeling, lost all sense of being real, and you can feel the last trance of living you had left slipping through your fingers.
No! Your turning into a ghost and the world around you has become a fog. The image is longer around you, but rather inside you, and it feels like a knife carving through your skin, searching for a vein. You know that if it hits the wrong spot everything is over. You twist and turn the best you can, but you still can barely move. Panic rushes through the outer layer of your skin, because that's all you have left now. Just skin.
The more you fight, the more you lose yourself into this dark world. It's nothing like you'd thought it be. There's not greener grass. The beautiful arms around you are long gone. No lights are in sight. It's just darkness, and even though you swear it's darker than the pitch black whole in your heart, it just keeps getting darker.
Agony courses through the endless sea of black. This is all your fault. That storm, is wasn't out to get everyone else. It was out to get you.
You look around at what's left to see and wonder how you could ever wish this among someone. You wonder how you could want those beautiful blue eyes to never open again. You wonder how you could ever want to be embraced by something that's not even there. You wonder how this became the life of your existence.
Eli Goldsworthy, what have you become?
By the way, this is Eli talking to himself. Like, the "darkness" in himself. Hope you guys understood that. Please let me know what you think! This won't be made into a story, so please don't ask. Want an ending? MAKE ONE UP! =)
-Jenna