josh Ramsay's addiction

by SallyThatGurl1964

Josh Ramsay tries hard to successfully get through high school while dealing with severe depression leading to bulimia, cutting and drugs. Meanwhile, his band Ramsay Fiction (Marianas Trench) is depending on him as the lead singer to make the band a big thing, although they have no idea what Josh is going through. In this story, you'll get closer to Josh than ever before.

Chapter 1

I was trapped inside my thoughts. Every inch of my pain only sunk deeper into the pit of my stomach and I wanted it gone. I wanted everything to fade away until I felt nothing, until I'd become as stone cold as a rock. At least that's what I thought I needed when I only had depression. But then I realized that the pit of sadness takes everything when it finally leaves after what it feels like eternity. So I turned to other methods to help me feel like a human being, unlike the numb, soulless piece of shit I am now. Well, I guess I'm gonna tell you my story. You might think it's some sort of poetic justice, but nothing is the least bit romantic about my addictions. My name is Josh Ramsay and you're going to learn my story and live my life.

"Dude, you ready for class?" Matt calls out to me from his locker as I patiently stand at mine with my books in my hands. "Yeah, let's go." I go to Magee Secondary School and I'm in grade 10. My depression started in grade 8 when I was 13. Here I am, 2 years later, still struggling with myself and trying to at least finish my school projects. I couldn't be more stressed out than now. Matt interrupts my thoughts with his words. "So you ready for that gig on saturday night? And did you find a bassist and drummer yet?" Oh, God. The gig. I had forgotten all about it. I've been too busy sulking in depression like always. "Uh, y-yeah, I'm ready." I try hard to hide that I'm lying but Matt knows. I see his excited, pumped up face turn desperate.

"Come on, man. Please tell me you at least found two worthy guys to be in Ramsay Fiction?" I clench my teeth with guilt and sigh. "You see, that's that problem-"

"We're never gonna make it through the gig! Even if we did find two guys they wouldn't have enough time to memorise the songs I mean-"

"Don't worry, Matt. I'll come up with something." I reassure Matt.

"You better, because this is important and I don't want you screwing this up." We slowly drift away as swarming teens rush by to get to class. You know what? Fuck class. I walk casually to the boys washroom and make sure no one is there. I lock myself in a stall and and take the pocket knife out of my worn out black Jansport backpack. I raise the knife up to my wrist, and before I begin to cut, I stare at the thick scars written into my skin. I dig the knife into my wrist. The pain is putting me in a state of bliss. My eyes roll back as this physical pain takes it's toll on me. As the blood rushes out of my arm, I feel, for one second, the sadness pour out of my body. My eyes stare to the blood for a while until someone walks into the washroom. I peak out of the stall just to see Matt standing, looking in the mirror. I quickly lift my foot up and stand on the toilet seat and crouch down, hoping he won't notice my bag. Relief is my friend when Matt walks out of the washroom. I let out a breath and jump off of the seat. My hand reaches for toilet paper to wipe to blood away. When I get a clear look at the wound, it's swollen and red around the incisions.

I gather my things and head to my english class. I guess it'd be best if I went for the last 10 minutes of it.