Cold | Suicidal Todoroki

10 | Burn

This story is not intended to promote or encourage actions/behaviors such as suicide, self-harm, abuse, violence, or substance abuse.

Day 61

I can't get out of my futon. I've been like this for a while now. I haven't gone to class. I haven't left my dorm. I haven't been eating. I haven't been answering my phone. I haven't had the energy. Last weekend, when I went home, Endeavor was ruthless. He kept telling me his life would be so much better if I didn't exist while he beat me. That I'm so fucking useless that I deserve every ounce of pain I've felt. Just a fuck-up of wasted potential.

It's fine. Yeah. I am useless. I do deserve all the pain I've suffered. Everything he's told me... It's all true. I must be so blind not to have seen it before. It's all so clear. But somehow, I just don't care.

He beat me until all I could do was hope I'd pass out soon. Until that was all I could feel. A hope for something at my fingertips that I just can't quite grasp. It's torture. But even torture fades into numbness.

When I woke up from finally passing out, I thought I'd accidentally scream from the agonizing, excruciating, paralyzing pain going through my entire body. I couldn't move. Every breath felt like a tsunami of fire crashing into my insides. It hurt so much. I wanted to bash my head against the wall until I fell unconscious again. I wanted it to be over. I was sick of everything. I was done. I'd had it.

I wanted to die.

I wanted to rot away in the corner on the floor. I just wanted to disappear from my problems and let the agony be extinguished. But that was what Endeavor wanted. He wanted me to kill myself. Right now, that's the only thing preventing me from doing it.

Anyway... Later, I wrote a poem. "Candle" was the title.

Even the happy moments in life still burn me down until the dark feelings are burned to nothing. Why must happiness always stab me in the back? It's mesmerizing, but the minute I touch it, it burns. That hope of being happy again laughs at me, but the way it looks ends up distracting me from the fact that it burns my feelings to ashes. The flame is too captivating. The thought of being able to be happy again keeps me warm, but I can't seem to capture it without burning myself. By the time it seems like it's within my reach, it's too late. The flame is cold, and there's still a burn on my finger that doesn't ever forget. The candle is gone, and so is another one of my emotions, even if I didn't want it to begin with. I grab another candle to try again, but the original candle is still gone. How many emotions am I disposing of?

But why haven't I been able to do anything? I finally found the strength to write about it, but I don't understand. I just feel this constant emptiness that won't go away. Like I'm looking at the world through someone else's eyes behind a thick pane of glass. My body refuses to move. It's too heavy. I can't. Last week and even today, I just stared and stared without getting bored but without being entertained. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't even want to breathe. Lying in bed was all I could do. That was it. A lot of people called me and texted me, but I didn't even bother to glance at my phone. I couldn't. I was so focused on doing nothing, because that was all my body would let me do.

Is this what they call a lowest point?