((Pairing: None
Songs: None
Genre: Angst
Side-notes: Once again, neither of us really edited, so sorry if anything gets on your grammar nerves...))
I hate how much it hurts to live. The hatred and utter despair that came with living. The pain of carving into my skin and drawing red lines with silver tools doesn't empty me like it used to. All I'm left with is emptiness. No one's found out besides my family. They noticed that I hadn't been talking to them when I wasn't faking a laugh and filming with the rest of the guys. Of course then it was bad. Very bad.
I had it all planned out. The date, the method. Pills; hanging is too scary, the idea of the breath being taken from my body it too much. No drowning either because it's too easy to fight back. I will take a bottle and slice into my veins at the top of the tallest building. If paramedics found me then I would have the injuries from the fall, the medicine pumping through my body, and blood loss. They wouldn't be able to save me from my death no matter what. I had just started writing my notes when they discovered. I was a complete dumbass and left my door open while I went out for the night. They must have found the one note that I had written out. Of course they confronted me. It was terrifying, I didn't want to talk about it. Even though in my note I had written that I wished someone had known, it doesn't mean that I wanted them to know. If that makes sense.
For a week after they found the old note in my room they always hovered. They made me not go on the internet, and they made me go through hell. Also called therapy. I don't like talking about me, even though I'm so damn good at it. It makes me feel dirty, like I'm being selfish for wanting to share my feelings. During that week they made sure to remind me that they wouldn't leave my side. Especially as "leaving me alone didn't work". Eventually my mom moved on. I convinced them it was the stress of youtube and now that I had taken a break from the stress it was fine. Lies. Why would I tell the truth though? They didn't care enough to keep their promise.
Of course I was relieved when they turned the wifi back on so I could finally talk to the pack again. They are the only reason why I stayed for so long. They seemed to love me. I don't see why though, I'm just a fuck-up of an Aussie who can't even do his damn job. The one saving grace about my parents finding my note was that I never wrote about my cutting. They never hid blades from me. I kept up the horrible habit, of course I'm not a dense idiot. Most of the time. I never cut on my wrists. Those could be found. I hide them on my hip, where no one would look, ever. Of course I had scars from when it all became too much and I just needed to slice it into my arm, but those were easily hidden with a little bit of foundation that I stole from my mom. It wasn't that hard to plaster on a smile with the rest of the guys. They could make me laugh until my sides hurt.
Vik must have noticed something was off first. It started out small with little hints that he would help if I needed anything. Eventually I cracked, I needed to speak to someone. I gushed to him that life was hard, and living was hard. I ranted about how much it hurt to live. I needed my secrets though, he didn't learn of my cutting or my suicidal thoughts. Preston surprisingly help a lot too. Vik told me that he had gone through depression too. He said that it used to be hard for him to get up and do anything. He told me that when he was at one of his lowest points he called Preston and he helped him through it. Even though Preston was never depressed, he still gave Vik a reason to live and smile. I was scared, I wasn't sure if I was ready to tell anyone the truth. Even if it was only part of it. I still told him. I fought through the fear and admitted that I was depressed to Preston too. Vik help so much, I felt bad for keeping some of it secret. That is until I told him all of it, all at once. I told him about how much I just wanted to die. Of course he consoled me and told me that it was all ok.
It was actually at one of Jay's infamous parties that I finally broke again. I'm not a social person, surprisingly. There were so many people. My anxiety was through the roof. I ended up on a stairwell in Jay's house. I couldn't talk to Vik as his phone only worked when I was in wifi, and sadly Jay was strict about sharing his wifi password. I texted Preston, I told him that I wanted to kill myself. I wanted just to end the pain. He panicked of course. He told me to call him as soon as I got home. I didn't want to. But still, as soon as I got home I called Preston's number and I told it outloud. My voice stopped and I stuttered a million times as I told him almost all of the truth for the first time vocally. It didn't help. It wasn't like some stupid ass story where I state my problems out loud and suddenly they cease to exist. It didn't change anything, I kept cutting and I kept wanting to die.
Another several months passed and eventually it was time for all of the Pack to meet up in London for the first time. I knew we would be swimming a lot as Rob loved to be in the water, that and water made me feel safe. I needed to tell Preston the final truth about me. He needs to hear it from me, not to see my old scars. I told him through text, like all my other shockers. He immediately tried to convince me not to. I promised him that I would try to stay clean but it's so hard when all I want to do is see my blood roll down my leg. I stayed clean for less than a week. I just couldn't live without causing myself pain. No one noticed, at least I had that one small relief. Several months of numb cutting, recording, and trying to distract myself and nothing had changed.
Except for one thing. I had always been a tiny bit pudgy, the guys said it was more of just that I was kind of soft. During the time of numbness I had started to eat more. I guess I used food as a distraction to try and keep my mind away from the bottle of sleeping pills. I didn't notice it until one of my tighter shirts didn't quite fit. It may have just been because I kept growing taller, but I saw it as the masses of fat on my body. The feeling of always being slightly uncomfortable in my clothes kept me from ever really feeling safe. That's when my addiction to giant sweatshirts started. I needed to hide the fact that I didn't have a perfect body from the rest of The Pack. It hurt to know that they were all so fit and handsome while I was left with so much fat and ugliness. I think it was around then when I discovered a new way to hurt myself. In all the tumblr stereotypical stories the depressed person cut and burnt their skin.
I knew that burning my skin would leave scars, fire victims were evidence enough of that. The idea came to be almost out of the blue. Candles. Their wax surely wouldn't leave permanent marks. I mean some people use it for sex so it shouldn't scar. I had three candles the first time I tested out my theory. On tall blue one, one smallish white one and one tiny white one in a plastic container, The tiny one wouldn't drip right so I moved up one forward to the white one. It hurt at first but it stopped after a little while. I was curious to see what would happen so I lit the blue candle. It hurt, a lot. It almost felt like my skin was being burned off and it made my arm clench and shake. That convinced me to stick to the white candles until I could work my way up to the blue.
It didn't take me long until I was itching to turn off my camera and roll up my sleeves to drip the liquid fire onto my arm. It also only took me a month or two until I was splashing large quantities onto my arm and only clenching in pain. It also took away the smell of blood from my room. Of course I told Vik the truth. I can't keep secrets from him anymore. He knows me inside and out. And as much of a burden as I was obviously being it felt good to talk to someone who kind of understood and could help me. The quality of my videos went down slightly and I completely stopped using facecam. I didn't need them to see my ugly round face. That and it made it so that I didn't have to constantly force a smile onto my face.
It had gotten better. I no longer cut everyday. I still dripped the molten wax onto my skin but that was more of a distraction to keep me from cutting. I had been a month clean. It was starting to look up slightly. Of course something was there to almost immediately tear me down to nothing again. It was a simple comment but it hit me hard.
THEGREENMAN (Road to 2K!): 'You must have stopped using facecam on your videos because you realized we don't want to see your ugly, fat face you fagg0t. Please leave. KYS.'
It wasn't that the comment made me feel that bad it was the eight hundred thumbs up that made me go back. It started simple with cutting then I progressed straight back into my depression. I needed to get thin. I had to. I couldn't keep being so fat and hideous. The Pack hadn't even seen my face in the fast month. I needed to get thin so that when I finally came face to face with them again I wouldn't be the fatass. Rushing to my bathroom I texted Jerome.
From Lachlan:
'Yes or no?'
This was a huge thing to commit to and I was nervous I needed an answer. I promised myself that if ten minutes passed or if he texted yes then I would do it. If he said no then I would just do something else. I was counting down the time staring at the tiny numbers on my screen. Finally ten minutes passed. I guess that's a yes. This is hopefully a step in the right direction. I leaned over the toilet. This is probably going to suck the first couple times. I reached my hand back and pressed two fingers to the back of my throat. I scratched at the back of my mouth for a couple seconds before I broke down completely. I can't. I stood up shakily from the bathroom floor. Stumbling I collapsed onto my bed. The sobs started small but then they went to full blown rocking back and forth sobs. I almost didn't realize that I was muttering 'I can't' until my shaking stopped. Tears still streamed down my face but I was no longer sobbing my eyes out. Finally I got up the courage and texted Vik.
From Lachlan:
'I can't'
From TheStar:
'?'
From Lachlan:
'I can't'
From TheStar:
'ok'
From Lachlan:
'I think I'm gonna go to bed I'm exhausted'
I shouldn't have texted him. This is why I should leave. No one would miss me. My body still trembling I reach out to my left to where I keep my sleeping pills. I shake ten onto my hand, Picking up two I grab my water and swallow them down. I stare at my hand and contemplate it.
Should I?
