You were my Novocain,
You took all pain away,
You gave me a reason to live another day.
John was up all night crying over his boyfriend. They got into some stupid fight and Randy had left him. Randy was the only thing that kept John from self-destructing. Before the two had become a couple, John was depressed. He would do things to hurt himself, not because he needed to "feel something" but because he felt that he deserved it. He deserved to bleed, to be wounded, and to be hurt. He was slowly killing himself. John never thought that he could ever be happy, that is until Randy came along. Even though John always put on a phony smile and acted as if everything was alright, Randy could see right through it.
The two were always together, they were inseparable. Laughing, kissing, hugging and loving is what they loved to do the most, no matter who judged them or their relationship, they didn't care, the only people who mattered the were each other. John's depression faded and faded with each passing day. There was no more late night crying, wiping tears away, or finding ways to cause himself anymore pain. Everything was okay, until now.
Was he only a distraction? John thought to himself. The depression never really went anywhere. It was just being shoved aside because of a distraction. The deeper his thoughts, the quicker those same feelings came back. His heart beat fast and painfully in his chest, his head became heavy, and then the hysterical crying. John got up from the bed and raided the closet for his small box of old razor blades, prescription pills, and anything else that could possibly numb the pain or simply put him out of his own misery.
"I love him." John said aloud as he put his hand over an eye patch that covered his left eye. He placed the same hand and ran it over his beaten up torso, and battered arms. He winced at the slight pain that coursed throughout his whole body. He popped open a bottle of pills and began swallowing them one by one. He didn't know what kind of pills they were and he didn't care. He ran his tongue over his swelled lips as he set the cold metal blade over his arm and sliced it across a few times, watching the crimson colored fluid run out freely.
Before John might've blacked out, he picked up a pen and notepad from the nightstand and wrote;
My Love,
If I don't wake up, please don't worry,
I did this for the both of us,
It's what we both secretly wanted.
Just know that I'll always love you despite what happened and I'll be watching down on you.
No more pain, no more suffering.
Now we can both be at peace.
I want you to move on, find someone who is more worthy than me.
You may forget me but I'll never forget you.
John set the small letter down on the nightstand and lay back down. The pillows where his cut arm rested were streaked with blood. He closed his eyes and hoped he'd wake up tomorrow in a better place….