"Something To Feel"
Disclaimer: Hi! It's been a while since I've done one of these before, but given the subject mater, I feel like it's necessary. This story deals with the topic of mental health and disorders. It also deals with self-harm, suicide, suicide attempt(s), suicidal ideation, and depression. These can be triggering for people, and I wanted to give my readers a heads up regarding it.
1
Have you ever had those nasty, unpleasant thoughts pop up in your mind when you least expect it? Have you ever had those moments when you feel like complete and utter shit? Like, you've already hit rock bottom. You're already at you lowest and most vulnerable point. Surely, it can't get any worse than this, right? And then you find out that you're wrong, that it can always get worse and that you loathed even asking something so ludicrous in the first place.
This was exactly how Juvia found herself feeling. Her head was pounding incessantly; there was a constant ringing in her ears, and she wondered if she was really losing it. She ached all over, and her eyes were throbbing in pain from her constant sobbing. Her throat was hoarse, scratchy with an itch that seemed permanent.
She laid cocooned in the warmth of her blankets, looking as haggard and miserable as she felt. It seemed that all she had the energy to do lately was sleep, sleep, SLEEP. She'd already lost count of the days and track of time, so occupied was she with wallowing in her constant, ever present heartache.
It felt as if someone clawed their way inside of her chest and ripped her heart right of her chest. And crushed the still beating organ right in front of her, leaving nothing behind but a gaping hole inside of her chest. She felt like she used up all her tears, but still, the urge to bawl her soul out gnawed on her like a dog does a bone.
Her phone was buzzing, no doubt with concerned messages and missed phone calls, but Juvia ignored it. When it boiled down to it, nobody cared about her, and she was always going to be stuck alone. She was used to both of these things, never having friends to call her own, and people tended to despise her ability to make it rain. She was an outcast, the black sheep of the flock, walking around with a target on her back that never came off no matter how hard she tried to rid herself of it.
Her cheeks were wet, and she absently touched her face, tracing each of her tears as they spilled. A pain bloomed in her heart anew, and suddenly, she couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't live like this anymore, and she was tired. She was tired of living, tired of existing, tired of hurting and crying all the damn time. She would never be happy, never be wanted, never fall in love and have the person she loved love her back. And how could they. Who would want to fall in love with her? She had nothing substantial to offer but a shitload of baggage. She could barely stomach carrying such a load herself, let alone trusting someone else to help her. It would lead to nothing but pain on her end, and she was tired of hurting, of feeling. She just wanted everything to stop.
She stumbled out of her bed in a haze, landing on wobbly legs that refused to heed her commands. Struggling to get to her bathroom, she finally managed, wrenching the door open with such a force, it slammed against the wall, the hinges creaking from such violent, abrupt force. She stood at her bathroom sink, right in front of her mirror, but she adverted her gaze, unwilling to see what was reflected back at her. Yanking open her medicine cabinet, she grabbed the first bottle of painkillers she could reach, picking up a razor for good measure.
She was sobbing uncontrollably once more, her tears blurring her vision. She took a shuddering breath, wiping her eyes as she tiptoed back inside of her bedroom, damn near collapsing on the floor. She couldn't take the pain anymore and wanted an out, a way to feel nothing at all.
Her hands were trembling so much that she worried the blade would slip out of her grasp, so she waited a few minutes to give her an opportunity to steel herself before beginning her task. With fluid movements, she cut and cut and cut, deeper and deeper with each swipe, sticky warm blood trickling down her clammy skin. She watched with morbid fascinating, as the cuts got deeper and the blood, her blood, got darker. Filling her mouth with water, the perks of having powers like hers, she downed a mouthful of pills until there was nothing left, until blackness surrounded her vision, until she no longer felt anything at all.
It's sad that this is the most at ease she's been, the happiest she's been in a long time…
This is just my opinion, and you don't have to agree with it if you don't want to, but personally, I see Juvia as depressed and suicidal. It's the way she behaves, how she views herself, especially how she defines her self-worth by her infatuation with Gray, which is concerning for a number of reasons. There's no Gray-bashing in here, as that's not my intent with this story. Or any other character bashing. I feel like Juvia has to build herself up and heal and genuinely love herself, and it'll take some time, but she'll find her happy ending. I also feel like nobody talks about mental health and therapy a lot in the Fairy Tail fandom, or fandoms in general, and I think it's an important discussion to have.
A lot of us are either struggling with mental disorder(s) or know someone who is, and I feel like this is a safe space for these kinds of topics and discussions. Please, let me know what you think, and I hope everyone is as safe as possible given the current pandemic we're experiencing. We need each other now more than ever, and however we can be there for each other, we should, y'know?