Three days ago, I died.
This is my life. My mum asks me about school and about work, picking up nick-knacks in the store for me when she remembers. My father congragulates me on my work when he thinks of it - when he imagines I've done something. My brother calls to explain his new invention or laud the new game he's playing and he hangs up without really saying anything. My sister wants to know if I'll come to the family reunion, or the family holidays. She says that I need a friend. My friends invite me out for drinks and come over to eat and laugh with me.
Except, this isn't living. Living means that I treasure the knick-knacks and laugh at the jokes and good times they remind me of. Living means that I thank my father, learning and treasuring his greater experience. Living means that I drag my brother over to get him to show me what he does - get him to do something with his inventions. Living means that I go to the reunions and the holidays and I bring food and gifts and hug my sister and praise her lovely children and accept a date and ignore her when she smirks at me in return. Living means that I pull my friends closer, share myself with them and look forward to their company. Living means that I feel something.
But I can't feel anything. I'm numb. Every day is the same: I get up, I get ready for work - same as everyone else. I tease my co-workers and call my family and watch lame telly and laugh at kittens and pretend to be smarter than I am - but there's nothing. My smile fades as soon as they look away, and my jokes somehow turn more into barbs to force people away before they get too close and see the truth. My hugs are just lies so I can hide my face before my mask breaks.
I'm broken. I'm not real. I don't work - I cut myself, but I don't bleed. I burn myself - but it doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts anymore. I'm drowning here in darkness and loneliness, and I can see everyone else around me smiling and laughing and living. I can see them reach for me and pull me in, and somehow I want to feel hurt - sad that I am so messed-up that I am the only person dying; angry that they can keep smiling when my face has frozen.
No heartbeat, no feelings, no tears... Nothing real anymore - just emptiness and despair and distant anger and sorrow - but they're gone in a second. It's too hard to feel, and I don't know when I gave up and stopped caring - when I locked my emotions up and threw away the key. I want them out now - I want to see what everyone else find so wonderful in life, to laugh at their jokes, and cry at their tragedies. But I lost the key so long ago in a flood of tears. I drowned there and I can't breathe - but I can't die either.
Three days ago, I died. I gave up. If I'm not feeling and not accomplishing anything and am walking around dead, I might as well make it real for everyone else too. If I'm only burdening everyone else, I might as well free them at last. I gathered what I need and I wrote my notes, and now I'll finish it. My soul and mind has died, my body might as well join them in the end.
Everyone around me keeps laughing, crying, smiling - they keep living. They don't see the broken mess that shouldn't exist and will soon be gone to free them from the trouble, they see the mask I always wear. They say hello and good morning to me, and they think I'm fine.
But they're wrong.
If you can hear me now, I'm reaching out to let you know that you're not alone;
And if you can't tell, I'm scared as hell 'cause I can't get you on the telephone.
AP: Nope. Don't and won't watch Torchwood. But I will watch music videos/character studies and Nya86Production's Story of a Dead Man was overlaid with dialogue from what I assume to be an episode. So thus, anyone who's seen Torchwood can read this as fanfiction. Anyone else? Well, it wasn't writing it for Owen or any other character but for life and people.
"Three days ago, I died. This is my life. Except it isn't living. Can't feel anything - I'm numb. Every day is the same: I get up, get ready for work - same as everyone else. And they think I'm fine. But they're wrong."
"I'm not real! I'm broken - I don't work. No heartbeat, no feelings, no tears..."
The lyrics are from Nickelback's Lullaby because there's another music video by xWhovianCrazinessx that I think studies Owen's death (hey! I know nothing about it and I just keep seeing him as Adam, so... ) that uses the song. And between the scenes and the lyrics and the dialogue, I can't decide if it was perfect or horrible timing... The title comes from the anagram someone taught me once for 'fine': freaked-out, insecure, neurotic, emotional. That doesn't really fit this, but there was another one for depression and suicide - I just can't recall it now... But the 'died three days ago' means here that three days before the person decided to kill themself and they started getting everything together. This story takes place just a bit before they actually try. The lyrics at the end is the message someone calling on the telephone and leaving a message because they figured out what the person was going to commit suicide and they're trying to stop it. They don't make it in time. 11-21-2015