A/N: Hey all, this is my first Scrubs fanfiction, so don't try and rip me up too badly. Constructive criticism extremely appreciated, but please remember that people are more likely to listen to advice when it is given in a polite manner.
WARNING: THERE IS
DESCRIPTION OF SUICIDE AND SUICIDAL TENDENCIES IN THIS STORY –
PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE READING UNLESS YOU ARE COMPLETELY COMFORTABLE
WITH THE TOPIC! My Reasons to Cry
My reasons to cry are the same as every other man. We all try to look hard and stoic in front of our lady-friends and -family, but alone, or in the company of extremely close friends or a partner... The tears can roll just as easily from our eyes as they can from a little girl who skinned her knee when she tripped on her jump-rope. Except... I'm not every man, admittedly. I'm more in tune with my feelings and I can be more feminine. And that is why I have figured out my most likely reasons to cry.
One: My Loss of Family
If I lost my entire family... I'd be nothing. Sure, I'd still have my lover, my friends and my colleagues, but I would have lost that "special" bond. The blood shared between two people, that connection that shows you will always have someone who will love you because they are a part of you.
I'd get over it eventually. I'd stop the day-dreaming, stop the crying, stop the pining for the control of my life again and just give over to the numb orders given by the emotionless parts of my brain and continue my job and life, but stop living. My friends would notice, my lover would leave me and my colleagues would start to avoid me – I would take that, but only because my emotions wouldn't care anymore. I wouldn't care anymore. That not caring would lead to an earlier death, a harder death that would only be made so much harder because my life would have been made so devoid of anything that the pain of dying would be an overload.
It would
end painfully.
Two: My Loss of Friends
If I lost
my friends – all of them – for no reason, due to a freak accident
and they all died, or even they just stopped talking to me, stopped
seeing me everyday and taking care of my life with me... I'd try to
commit suicide, set the knife up surgical-style on a tray in front of
me, gloves pulled on tightly with a satisfying snap as I would smile,
living out one of those insane fantasies that would become less and
less frequent as I worked myself up to my death. I'd pick up the
knife, cut my throat just so a small part of the knife wasn't visible
and panic – the ambulance would be there in minutes and I'd live,
re-evaluate my life and live on.
Three: My Loss of My Lover
If I lost my lover, I would do exactly the same as what I would do for losing my friends – but I wouldn't commit suicide. I would have no control over what killed me. The tag on my toe in the morgue would read "John Dorian – Cause of Death: Broken Heart Syndrome (takotsubo cardiomyopathy)".
Because, truth be told, I've never lived as much as I have with Perry Cox by my side emotionally now, and without him, there would be no life for me.
And my broken heart would prove it.