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“I can help you.”

“What makes you think I need helping?”

“You tried to kill yourself last week.”

“Oh yeah. That.”

“Would you mind telling me about it?”

“What, like why I did it? That kind of stuff?”

“Yeah.”

~~~~

I brought about my own destruction, that much I’ll admit. But that’s not to say I’m the only one to blame. It was my first time at a new school after all, and could I really be expected to fit in right away? I didn’t think so, and therein lay the problem. I waited too long to try to make new friends, and by then everybody had already become a part of a tightly knit group with no room for latecomers.

Sure, some of the other outcasts were willing to welcome me, but we’re called outcasts for a reason—we’re not exactly social butterflies. With them, I didn’t create the strongest of friendships. Sure, we talked during school, but nothing beyond that. We didn’t go shopping, or out to eat, or to the movies, or do anything else together.  We needed each other during school, but we were too used to seclusion to do more than that. Hanging out with them was my first mistake.

My second mistake was falling head over heels for Adam. He was in a couple of my classes, and sometimes he would talk to me. We never actually carried out an entire conversation, but somehow I convinced myself that he was crazy about me. Like I said, big mistake.

An even bigger mistake was asking him to the Valentine’s dance. If there’s one thing I regret doing, it’s that. It took me a week to find a chance to talk to him, and looking back, I wish it had taken longer. Much, much longer.

Because, see, he didn’t like me. Not even as a friend, really. To him, I was just somebody to say hi to every now and then. Besides, he had his girlfriend to think about.

Naturally, I was a bit depressed about the whole thing. I had no real friends, and I had successfully alienated the only normal person who ever talked to me. In addition to all that, my grades were slipping.

~~~~

“Is that when you decided to try and kill yourself?”

“No.”

“But—“

“Just…be patient, all right? I’ll get to that part.”

~~~~

So like I was saying, I was a little bit depressed. A little bit. Well, at the time it didn’t really seem like a little, but it was. I mean, I wasn’t at the point of needing to cut myself to feel better yet. That came later.

So after the initial shock over Adam, I managed to settle down into a routine. A very lonely routine, but it got me through the day. Now that I think about it, I’m not exactly sure how long that lasted. It might have been a few months, or it might have been just one. All the days just seemed to meld together. I didn’t have much to distinguish them by.

In all this time, I was neither severely depressed nor tolerably happy. I was merely there, balanced on the edge of a very figurative knife. I think what finally pushed me over the edge was Christie leaving. Christie was my outcast friend, and when she moved, I was alone. Still, I probably could have survived if my sudden vulnerability hadn’t attracted the attention of Lisa and her friends.

During lunch, Christie and I had always sat near them. We never spoke to them, and they ignored us in return. As soon as Christie was gone, however, they decided to have a little fun at my expense. Daily.

I’d rather not get into what I went through, but suffice it to say that the next few weeks included ketchup, a lot of ruined shirts, and some pretty nasty name-calling. What little part of school I had enjoyed, they destroyed. Lunch became a battleground.

~~~~

“And that’s…”

“Yes. That’s about when I decided I wanted to kill myself.  I had no friends, Adam avoided me, I was failing half my classes, and to top it all off, I had Lisa to deal with. What was the point of living, if every day was just going to be miserable? Why go through that all the time?”

The therapist nodded sympathetically and looked like she was searching for something to say. “You’re saying all this like it doesn’t apply anymore.”

“Well, it doesn’t.” I did my best to keep a straight face as she digested that.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

~~~~

As I mentioned before, the last straw was Lisa. I had made the mistake of bringing my journal to school, and she found it. I think you can guess what happened next. She read out the most embarrassing entries and didn’t return it until she had the whole school laughing.

As soon as lunch was over, I ran home and found the sharpest knife in the kitchen. I hid in the bathroom and for two hours wondered if killing myself was really what I wanted to do. Obviously, I decided it was, and dragged the knife across my wrists.

It wasn’t until I was half-dead that I realized I wanted to live. Seeing the blood—my blood—pooling at my feet really got to me, I guess. Filled me with that good ol’ survival instinct. I was faint with loss of blood and it was hard for me to move, but I managed to push myself into the living room where the phone was. I was able to call my mom before passing out.

~~~~

“And now, a week later, you’ve decided you won’t try that again?” She sounded skeptical.

I allowed myself a small smile. “No, I decided that when I woke up in the hospital. My whole family was there, worried sick. Parents, brothers, sister…I don’t think I’ll want to make them go through that again.”

“But what makes you so sure you’re not wrong? People change, you know. How do you know you won’t wake up tomorrow and think ‘my life still sucks, what was I thinking, this isn’t worth it’?”

“I’ve had a week to plan against that. I’ve gotten in touch with Christie on facebook, and we’ve been messaging each other after school. I got a tutor for the subjects I’m failing. I can’t do anything about Adam, but I’ll start eating lunch in a teacher’s classroom. I won’t have to face Lisa again.”

She still looked unsure.

“Listen to me. I almost died. I would have, if my stupidity had lasted another minute. But it didn’t, and here I am. Alive. And you know what? I like being alive. I like it so much that even if being alive means a life of misery, that’s okay. You know why? Because I’ll still be alive.”

The therapist stared at me. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, so I just smiled wider.

“See? Told you I didn’t need your help.”
©2009 ~friesaregood
:iconfriesaregood:

Author's Comments

Woah, another one! Haha, *tiraldan was right. She told me I would be able to write another one about self-harm, and here it is! Time to enter it in a contest. :P

(btw, I wrote it for ~ShortStackStories's New Life/Rebirth contest. Well, it KINDA fits. xD)

Comments


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:icontiraldan:
Ok, I'm sorry. I only have one comment.

You're, like, amazing. :heart:

This is really great! Seriously! I'm, like, lost for words! And I know that because I don't usually use the word "like" quite so often as I am right now? I really gotta stop that.

Umm. So. Trying to think of something more coherent. Yeah, that contest. Enter this. If you don't win I'll be like... what. But still awestruck.

Ok I give up. Coherency is NOT coming easily.

--
Admin of =PoetryPlease and ~NearVSMello, member of *DailyLitDeviations, ~workgroups, and *photohunt. Note me if you've read any good prose on DevArt lately! That is, non-poetry writing.
:iconfriesaregood:
Aww, thanks! *finds the contest* xD

--
"The hardest thing for somebody to do is to change somebody else's mind."
:iconangry-buddha-88:
Very good, I like.

However, I feel that the main character needs more justification for her sudden turn around. It's somewhat unrealistic for someone in that state and situation to break into a 'always look on the briiiiiight side of life' song and dance routine. There needs to be a catalyst for this change, imo - perhaps in the form of a 'get well' card from Christie, or something.

--
Friendship is like pissing your pants... Everyone can see it, but only you get to experience that wonderful feeling of warmth.
:iconfriesaregood:
Hmm, I was thinking the turning point was when she saw all her blood on the floor. Realizing that she was so close to losing life.

"Seeing the blood—my blood—;pooling at my feet really got to me, I guess. Filled me with that good ol’ survival instinct."

--
"The hardest thing for somebody to do is to change somebody else's mind."
:iconangry-buddha-88:
That accounts for the short term, but in the long term her life still sucks balls. Depression is a spiraling pit and whatnot. Waking up in hospital to minimal fanfare for a depression sufferer would have them thinking "Well shit, would it be any different if I had died? Would anyone care?"

Cue more depression. Depression is not measles. Depression does not go away in a week or so and leave you with a handy immunity for it for the rest of your life.

But still, as it stands and from a literary standpoint, a 'and then I got better the end' ending is usually weak, (in this situation) somewhat preachy, seemingly slapdash and lazy, and unrealistic. In a short story especially, there can be no weak links. In judging a story for a contest, the judges are going to be looking for strong stories and powerful messages.

I'm critiquing this in an attempt to be helpful, but if you're happy with what you have feel free to ignore it. It is, after all, your story.

--
Friendship is like pissing your pants... Everyone can see it, but only you get to experience that wonderful feeling of warmth.
:iconfriesaregood:
First off, thanks for the critique! I really do appreciate it. :)

So, what exactly are you saying I should have done? Have her realize that there really are some people she knows who care about her and want her to stick around? Maybe throw in that there were lots of flowers in the hospital room? How does THAT not come off sounding fake?

--
"The hardest thing for somebody to do is to change somebody else's mind."
:iconfriesaregood:
Okay, I changed the ending around a little. What do you think?

--
"The hardest thing for somebody to do is to change somebody else's mind."
:iconangry-buddha-88:
Just because you've provided a straw-man doesn't mean the original argument is invalid. You'll notice that I suggested (and I'm aware that it's kinda suck) a get well card from Christie, not a room full of flowers or apologetic teenagers. "I tried dying but it really wasn't my thing" comes across as somewhat unsatisfying to me, emotionally. It discourages empathy with the character. To get the story's message across, you need empathy. Empathy is the driving force - if someone doesn't care about the character, they're not going to care about the message. What she needs is an emotional excuse, or justification. Even the tiniest slither of hope is enough of an excuse for her to change her mind.

Bear in mind, this is just a suggestion from my point of view - a dubious source indeed.

--
Friendship is like pissing your pants... Everyone can see it, but only you get to experience that wonderful feeling of warmth.
:iconangry-buddha-88:
Aye, much better. The last line works wonderfully, too. Is that new?

And good luck in the contest - you'll do fine. :)

--
Friendship is like pissing your pants... Everyone can see it, but only you get to experience that wonderful feeling of warmth.

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