Triggers: depression/suicide.
You know those people that just put it all out there- on the line. On a relationship. Who love whole-heartily (idiotically), who aren't afraid to just confess their love at a random moment. Who aren't afraid to wrap their arms around the ones they care about, to reach them wherever they might go. They aren't afraid to follow, to believe. They aren't afraid to lead, to be rejected. Those people are really brave, especially when they can hurt in front of you. Because just know that it takes more to be that vulnerable, that accessible.
It's much easier to hide behind a mask.
To act like it doesn't hurt. A smile is painful, but it's easier to smile- than to have to explain what hurts to the world. To sit down and embrace that pain, then articulate it so others can understand. And god, do you ever dream of words to describe it. You can say it simply, bite your tongue, on a bitter laugh, because it (honestly) is simple enough. They called you a mean name- it hurts you. But it's not that simple. They can hate you- that's fine, because that hate, is one tenth of the hate you feel for yourself. Useless, despicable - the people around you would be better without you.
And, for apparently no reason at all, you start to distance yourself from them. Because they'd be better off without you, they just don't know it. And when they call you out on this barrier you've created, you flat-out deny it, you lie between your teeth. Make them hate you, because if you do that… Just make them a little happier- then maybe you can hate yourself less. But then, that's just a completely selfish notion.
You're sinking deeper. You feel numb. For some reason they haven't given up on you yet, and they are still calling your name. You just want to be what they want. You smile blindly, and do as they say. Whatever they say, without a fight left. The false happiness, you start to believe, is worse. You don't know what is real anymore. Because you are laughing and so is everyone else with you. But something is missing, it's a shallow laugh, and there is something missing. And you start driving yourself crazy- looking, researching for what component is missing. You never feel complete. You feel broken. Worthless. Pathetic.
You don't reach out, don't want to be touched. Because you don't feel worth it. As if their hands would be tainted by trash. You don't want to disappoint them anymore- because things are just, finally, getting better. How can you ever describe this feeling anyway? You can't. Because you can't even remember what it is. You convince yourself, that you've always felt this way. That you've never laughed truly, and heartily since you were a child. And you believe this is normal. This is a stage.
Until it hits. It's like the weight you've been carrying on your shoulders, just suddenly taps you on your shoulder. It whispers all to you, all your fears. Tells you how broken you are- how you aren't normal. You'll never amount to anything, never be like the people around you. The people who don't deserve this, this shit. You. You're just a little shit. In a world with billions of others.
The part that comes next may sound like a great leap, but it hardly is. Because it has honestly been creeping in the back of your mind for a while now. And when you think about it, it is just a great relief. And the most disgusting thing is that you consider it rationally. In a more calm, and upright matter than you've dealt with anything in a long time. Because now that you've decided, all that is left are the details. The little things. Like how you'll do it. Where you will do it.
And, often or not, it isn't long after those details that you do it. And it's over. You are over. Unless that idiot, that stupid, courageous person reaches out. They touch your arm, or reach to hold your hand. They just say they just want to talk. It turns into one helluva conversation, you'd say.
Though you'd never admit it, behind that smug mask- the truth. That Captain American, Steve Rogers, saved your life.