the story of us

Chapter 1

TW: mental health, discussion of SH and suicide

I'm in love with my best friend. You might be wondering how the fuck we've gotton to that so quickly so let me take you back a few years. 

7th of February 2020. We all hop off the bus after arriving at Victor Harbour for our yearly music camp. Some students happy to be here, some not. I'm not going to lie this isn't always my favourite place to be, these people that I've grown to know, that seem to look right through me, parents, students and teachers alike. There is a distance between us, a wall of glass I can't get through. Now if you've been on a Tansmore music camp before you know that the first thing you have to do when you get off the bus is unload all of the bags and instruments. And let me tell you now, its hot outside. Like Australia summer hot. We all heave the bags and instruments the 30 or so meters to the hall and after a rough 20 mins are able to finally relax.

Now this story is all fun and games but let me tell you a bit about me. My names Charlotte I'm a year 11 student of Tansmore College. I love music, my friends, art, literature and I'm not going to lie One Direction. The last few years of my life have been hell and I'm not going to lie it's still really hard sometimes. Let's just say pulling yourself from depression, anxiety and a mild eating disorder isn't the easiest thing to do especially when you're in a toxic relationship. Ah yes, I feel like it's time to delve into that one.

His name is Nelson Parks, the infamous. Loud, opinionated, aggressive, rude, disrespectful, but something completely different through my screen. You can probably tell already that this relationship wasn't going to go down well. It started in year 8, (wow I was young), when I properly met Nelson for the first time. He was in my class. I always forget how we started, it's as if my brain refuses to remember our first conversation or our first text message. But the first thing I remember is us talking about mental health. I'm mean really that's all I remember. We didn't have much else. Everyday we'd talk, hours upon hours through our phones, through calls and messages and photos. See the twist here is we aren't exactly from the same 'social standing' in our school. You see even though he can be annoying as fuck, he's also more popular than me. This means that we didn't talk in real life, at school, ever. We would stare longingly across the room and smile, and blush but never speak, god forbid they knew that we were friends. To be honest with you, I'm upset when I look back at my relationship with him. It was bad for my mental health. He would tell me about all his problems, constantly, I was his therapist because he refused to go to a real one, a trained one. I supposedly saved his life although to this day I'm still not sure if I believe that. He would tell me that story as my hands shook, a little 14-year-old girl trying to take in the information that someone she loved (supposedly) so much nearly killed themselves. Put the gun in their mouth, ready to pull the trigger and then stopped themselves, because of me? It never added up. From year 8 all the way to the end of year 10, that's three long painful years, he was my therapist, my love, my guilty pleasure, my experiment, my secret. We would tell each other our secrets till we were drained of any lies, we would talk and talk, or sometimes just sit in silence, breath fanning through the phone because we'd run out of things to say. You see he liked sport. As you may imagine as I'm currently at a music camps and I'm a literature and art lover that, that is not really my forte. And especially when your love was cricket. I mean really Nelson. That's the sport you chose, ok. I tried really hard to understand, id listen to you talk about the rules, and the elements of the bat for hours to try and have a connection but it wasn't there the only thing that bound us was our mental illnesses, how fucked up we were.

One time mid last year, my first time getting drunk, I decided that my choice of alcohol while my parents were out was going to be Gin, and let me tell you I still have trouble drinking it to this day, it has left a sour taste in my mouth, literally. I'm not going to divulge the night completely because even though we're in the past I can still confide in the fact that we still have secrets that no one else knows. But one part that I remember vividly, a conversation that we had that still makes me upset to this day. I have no idea where it came from, but I felt the need to tell you something, something I didn't truly understand myself at this point. "I'm Bi" I said. My mouth slurring the words, but fully meaning their intention. And do you remember what you replied with. "no, you're not" ....no, you're not, you said with a laugh on your breath. What the fuck is that supposed to mean. I know you didn't mean anything of it at the time, and I don't think I'd ever really admitted it out loud until then, but to all my readers, just so y'all get this gist of this piece of writing. I'm bisexual. Now Nelson, I know you're a loud mothed conservative, but I don't think that was very thought out, but moving on. There is one other stand out from that night. A conversation I had with you about a girl named Jessie Brown. I can't believe it all started that long ago. Jessie is my best friend. Or at least she would come to be. In true Charlotte and Nelson style the reason that I brought this up is because I was concerned for her mental health. Another side note, Jessie's mental health is going to practically be a main character in this story because to be honest that's how it feels in my life right now. I talked to you about how I was concerned she had an eating disorder and was struggling with depression. We chatted for a while, you always liked Jessie, you thought she was cool and chill, your drama classes with her were always a blast and you'd tell me about how you guys were 'best friends'. You did have problems with mental health Jessie, and at the time I had no idea how bad they were.

I'm ready to skip forward a little bit to the past January, last month. This is when I said goodbye to him, to the one I'd clamed to love, but the one that was truly killing me. It was the 8th of January. I was doing a long shift at the deli where I worked for 8 months. During my lunch break i got a text. 

Him: This is over isn't it? You don't really like me anymore do you?

I felt my stomach drop. I didn't want to hurt him.