love, or the lack thereof (p. davidson)

twenty three

As a person who struggles with mental health issues, I know when I tend to slip into a dark place. My body becomes numb to any feeling along with my brain. It's as though I'm not mentally present, just physically.

I could feel myself slipping father and farther down the hole as each day passed. I was starting to feel suffocated.

But, I know that I also tend to tell myself unrealistic things and scenarios when I'm in these depressive episodes. This only causing more pain and destruction.

For the past two weeks, I found no motivation to move from the bed in the guest room. I knew Pete was noticing my sudden mood swing from the two weeks before, but my mind was convincing me that he really didn't care.

He never would force me to go out of the house or even to therapy which pleasantly surprised me. Gretchen had prescribed me some anti-depressant pills after my first appointment back from everything that had happened. I hadn't taken them at all. There was no point. For the first week I had them Pete insisted he watch me take them, but from past experience I knew how to trick him into thinking I had swallowed them.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I wasn't really sure, I had no intention or plan of harming myself. At least not at this moment.

Staring out the window, it was a gloomy day. It had rained the night before and the sky had remained a gray tone.

I lay in my bed where I had been for days now and did nothing. I tried drawing but it wasn't working like it use to. Nothing was coming to my head.

The sound of the guest room door opening caused me to turn my head in the direction of the sound.

Pete walked into my room with only a small smile. I wasn't sure where he had been but I wasn't really sure that I cared.

He made it an effort to check in on me everyday, though he knew something was wrong I was trying my best to convince him that I was feeling sick from my period. Pure bullshit.

And because he thinks I have been taking those small blue pills, I was praying he didn't suspect anything other then the lie I was telling him.

Pete neared towards the bed and I stared blankly at him. I hadn't slept in days and though my body was tired, my eyes refused to shut.

He gently climbed over my body so he could lay on the other side of the bed. He didn't pull me closer to him like he normally would have done.

Silence.

That's all that there was. Both of us said nothing. Not a single word. It was like we could communicate with the thoughts in our heads. Though my head held nothing.

I could hear as he shifted his body around so he was facing me. I remained staring into the unknown.

His hand reached out gently to caress my cheek, moving some of my unkept hair out of the way as he did so.

Though the feeling of emptiness and depression was scary. The feeling I felt when his hand touched my skin was the most terrifying of all.

A feeling I was continuously trying to push away and forget. The feeling of commitment. The feeling of love.

My mind played tricks and begun to scare itself away from any idea of remotely being anything with Pete. Those thoughts frightened me.

His hand remained caressing my cheek and eventually my body couldn't take it anymore. It felt as though my face was burning from his touch.

"I think I need to move back." I blurt out unintentionally.

I needed to say something that I would hope make him stop. I needed the burning to stop.