Shaken and Tried
Chapter 5
It has been three weeks since Jack first walked into my pre-calc class on the first day of school. We've hung out everyday since, usually my house, but occasionally his. We're still just friends and have (unfortunately) not gone anywhere beyond hugs and mild flirting. But right now he's gone, he left about 7 hours ago, and I'm a mess
.
I'm just having one of those nights. One of those nights where nothing matters anymore and all you can do is lay there, sobbing and choking on the air. One of those nights when you begin to cry out “I wanna go home” before realizing that's right where you are, so it just becomes a choked whisper of “I wanna go,” and that is exactly what I want to do. I don't want to die, I just want to go. No where in particular, or away from anything specific, I just want to go. I'm trying to distract myself with the music that is usually my savior, but when The Rock Show by Blink 182 starts to flow through my head phones that keep getting yanked out of place every time I move in the slightest, and I don't even feel I slight since of joy, I lose it. I fucking love that song and yet it has no affect on my current emotional state. Trying just seems futile at this point. I let out the strangled sob I've been holding in for the past hour and pull my tear and snot soaked pillow closer to my body, clinging on to it likes its my only anchor to sanity and biting on the end of hoodie sleeve to keep from screaming.
Its not my blade that I want right now, no I already tried that and all I gained was 26 new gaping wounds and no new since of comfort. I was lost. All I could think of was death, my death in particular. I had never really been suicidal, sure I thought about it, how I'd do it, what would happen if I did. I've even dreamed about it a few times. But I have too much to live for; too many concerts to attend, too many new albums and singles to hear for the first time, too many people too fall in and out of love with. Even with that however, here I am thinking about how people would react upon hearing about my self-inflicted death. That's what started it really. Just an innocent thought, I sure plenty of people think about it, but I realized something that made me break. Sure people would be upset about my death at first, my mother would cry for weeks, my father would be lost with out his son by his side, Rian and Zack would lose there best friend and wonder how they never noticed how lost I was, and Jack would live the rest of his life blaming himself for not doing more to save me even though this was anything but his fault, but I would be forgotten. I will leave no great legacy, no one will remember me. The people I know now will move on. I may always be on their minds on the anniversary of my death or when something they see reminds them of me, but all and all I'm replaceable.
I know what I need right now, I need some one. I need somebody to hold me and tell me I'm worth it, but I hate crying in front of people. It's not just a pride thing, (although that is a factor) but I hate putting my problems on people. Everyone has issues of their own, and they don't need mine too add to the list. So instead I go home and cry alone after keeping everything bottled up all day, because its better to suffer by myself than bring other people down with me. At least that's what I tell myself. Soon, however, the cold air against my back and the never ending loneliness in the pit of my stomach become too much, so I reach out to the only person who won't question the dried blood sticking to my sheets or think my thoughts earn me an all exclusive pass to the nearest mental ward.
To Jack: Are you up?
In the time it takes for him to answer I curl my self up in the tightest ball I can, hoping that maybe if I make my self small enough I can just disappear. To my dismay however, I'm still visible when I open my stinging eyes again. I let out soft, strangled sobs and wait for the buzz of my phone, praying that Jack is up. Its about 2:45 in the morning, but its Friday, well i guess Saturday now, and me and Jack never sleep before 3 am on the weekends. I finally feel the vibration against my chest alerting me that Jack has seen my cry for help and has answered it.
From Jack: Yup, whats going on?
To Jack: Nothin really. I'm kinda having a really bad night... I just need someone :(
I wait for what seems like an eternity lost in my own thoughts. By this point I have convinced myself that Jack read my text but just didn't care. That he didn't want to be that someone and never would. By the time I feel my phone buzz again I have my hands clamped over my ears and pulling at the hair on the back of my head quietly whispering “no” over and over again while rapidly shaking my head back and forth for no obvious reason. Anybody looking on would think I was insane.
From Jack: Come out front
I have no idea what Jack is saying, he lives a 30 minute walk from my house and its currently pouring rain outside, but still I step out of bed and quietly tip toe my way down stairs on wobbly legs, careful not to wake my parents. I pull open my front door with a trembling hand to see to see a soaking wet Jack dressed in sweat pants, oversized t-shirt and a lightweight black jacket with the hood barely protecting his messy, un-styled hair. His eyes are wide and full of worry and he has rain water running down the sides of his face, its actually quiet adorable. I can't believe he actually walked all the way here, in the rain, simply because I had a bad night.
“I'm someone,” he whispers while opening his arms and taking a shy step towards me. I forget about everything. I forget that I'm standing in front of Jack with puffy red eyes, sticky face and hair shooting out in every direction. I forget that my head is pounding and lip quivering. I forget all the horrible thoughts running through my head, and just fall into Jacks arms, shoving my face against his chest, and hiccup, sobs coming to a end, just by being in his presence.
We stand in the threshold of my house for I don't know how long before I lead him upstairs, still clinging onto his hand, and pull him onto my bed with me. I know that my parents won't care if he spends the night, they love Jack. I curl up against Jacks chest and ball his now almost dry shirt in my fists and pull myself as close as I can to his thin body.
I notice him eyeing the sheets, which now that I can see a little better I notice are smeared with quiet a bit of blood, and giving me a small worried glance. I simply shake my head and bury my face in the crook of his neck. Jack knows better than to ask right now and instead gently rubs my back, perfectly aware that I'll talk about it when or if I want to.
.
I'm just having one of those nights. One of those nights where nothing matters anymore and all you can do is lay there, sobbing and choking on the air. One of those nights when you begin to cry out “I wanna go home” before realizing that's right where you are, so it just becomes a choked whisper of “I wanna go,” and that is exactly what I want to do. I don't want to die, I just want to go. No where in particular, or away from anything specific, I just want to go. I'm trying to distract myself with the music that is usually my savior, but when The Rock Show by Blink 182 starts to flow through my head phones that keep getting yanked out of place every time I move in the slightest, and I don't even feel I slight since of joy, I lose it. I fucking love that song and yet it has no affect on my current emotional state. Trying just seems futile at this point. I let out the strangled sob I've been holding in for the past hour and pull my tear and snot soaked pillow closer to my body, clinging on to it likes its my only anchor to sanity and biting on the end of hoodie sleeve to keep from screaming.
Its not my blade that I want right now, no I already tried that and all I gained was 26 new gaping wounds and no new since of comfort. I was lost. All I could think of was death, my death in particular. I had never really been suicidal, sure I thought about it, how I'd do it, what would happen if I did. I've even dreamed about it a few times. But I have too much to live for; too many concerts to attend, too many new albums and singles to hear for the first time, too many people too fall in and out of love with. Even with that however, here I am thinking about how people would react upon hearing about my self-inflicted death. That's what started it really. Just an innocent thought, I sure plenty of people think about it, but I realized something that made me break. Sure people would be upset about my death at first, my mother would cry for weeks, my father would be lost with out his son by his side, Rian and Zack would lose there best friend and wonder how they never noticed how lost I was, and Jack would live the rest of his life blaming himself for not doing more to save me even though this was anything but his fault, but I would be forgotten. I will leave no great legacy, no one will remember me. The people I know now will move on. I may always be on their minds on the anniversary of my death or when something they see reminds them of me, but all and all I'm replaceable.
I know what I need right now, I need some one. I need somebody to hold me and tell me I'm worth it, but I hate crying in front of people. It's not just a pride thing, (although that is a factor) but I hate putting my problems on people. Everyone has issues of their own, and they don't need mine too add to the list. So instead I go home and cry alone after keeping everything bottled up all day, because its better to suffer by myself than bring other people down with me. At least that's what I tell myself. Soon, however, the cold air against my back and the never ending loneliness in the pit of my stomach become too much, so I reach out to the only person who won't question the dried blood sticking to my sheets or think my thoughts earn me an all exclusive pass to the nearest mental ward.
To Jack: Are you up?
In the time it takes for him to answer I curl my self up in the tightest ball I can, hoping that maybe if I make my self small enough I can just disappear. To my dismay however, I'm still visible when I open my stinging eyes again. I let out soft, strangled sobs and wait for the buzz of my phone, praying that Jack is up. Its about 2:45 in the morning, but its Friday, well i guess Saturday now, and me and Jack never sleep before 3 am on the weekends. I finally feel the vibration against my chest alerting me that Jack has seen my cry for help and has answered it.
From Jack: Yup, whats going on?
To Jack: Nothin really. I'm kinda having a really bad night... I just need someone :(
I wait for what seems like an eternity lost in my own thoughts. By this point I have convinced myself that Jack read my text but just didn't care. That he didn't want to be that someone and never would. By the time I feel my phone buzz again I have my hands clamped over my ears and pulling at the hair on the back of my head quietly whispering “no” over and over again while rapidly shaking my head back and forth for no obvious reason. Anybody looking on would think I was insane.
From Jack: Come out front
I have no idea what Jack is saying, he lives a 30 minute walk from my house and its currently pouring rain outside, but still I step out of bed and quietly tip toe my way down stairs on wobbly legs, careful not to wake my parents. I pull open my front door with a trembling hand to see to see a soaking wet Jack dressed in sweat pants, oversized t-shirt and a lightweight black jacket with the hood barely protecting his messy, un-styled hair. His eyes are wide and full of worry and he has rain water running down the sides of his face, its actually quiet adorable. I can't believe he actually walked all the way here, in the rain, simply because I had a bad night.
“I'm someone,” he whispers while opening his arms and taking a shy step towards me. I forget about everything. I forget that I'm standing in front of Jack with puffy red eyes, sticky face and hair shooting out in every direction. I forget that my head is pounding and lip quivering. I forget all the horrible thoughts running through my head, and just fall into Jacks arms, shoving my face against his chest, and hiccup, sobs coming to a end, just by being in his presence.
We stand in the threshold of my house for I don't know how long before I lead him upstairs, still clinging onto his hand, and pull him onto my bed with me. I know that my parents won't care if he spends the night, they love Jack. I curl up against Jacks chest and ball his now almost dry shirt in my fists and pull myself as close as I can to his thin body.
I notice him eyeing the sheets, which now that I can see a little better I notice are smeared with quiet a bit of blood, and giving me a small worried glance. I simply shake my head and bury my face in the crook of his neck. Jack knows better than to ask right now and instead gently rubs my back, perfectly aware that I'll talk about it when or if I want to.
Notes
I am so super sorry that i didn't update yesterday and its kinda late tonight and that this ones a little shorter than the last few chapters~As always thank you so much to everyone who reads and/or subscribes to this story, it means tons to know that people actually enjoy this <3 Comment and all that :D I love you guys~
(also if you ever have a bad night and need someone to talk to my tumblr URL is emilyisnotsocial, i'll always be here to listen and care)
@emilygrace0516
Welcome love <3
4/26/14