Supernatural Oneshots

Depression is a bitch

TW - depression, self harm and suicide - im feelin real joyful atm arent I, in all seriousness though, reach out if you do need help, you aren't alone and people will miss you even if you don't think so x

I can feel wind rushing through my hair as I run, music blasting through my ears and tears flying off my cheeks and into the air behind me. Today was a shit day, Dean accused me of being a failure, he ridiculed me for making a simple mistake - sneezing on a hunt - while we were trying to hide and then he yelled at me for breaking down and told me to suck up whatever I was feeling because I "cry all the time and need to stop being so sensitive to everything" he says. 

Dean doesn't realise I've been more depressed than usual, I lay awake in bed for hours trying to fall asleep and trying to wake up, he doesn't realise I get about two hours of sleep a night and pump myself full of coffee to avoid any questions about why I look so tired, why my bags under my eyes are larger than normal - I chalk it up to stress when Jack asks me if I'm okay. 

Sam doesn't even realise the thoughts I have about not fighting back on a hunt or where I let myself get stabbed or where I let myself get hurt just so I can feel something and have someone care about me without me feeling guilty for wanting some help and attention. 

Jack partially realises what's wrong, he's sensitive to my emotions, more than the others, so if I've been crying he'll have either heard it cause of us being wall neighbours or he can see it in my eyes, he can see how exhausted I am mentally. He'll try to talk to Sam about it so Sam can help me but he brushes it off as physical exertion. Jack will see me at the coffee table, spaced out as all hell and he'll sit next to me and hug me tightly, letting me rest on his shoulder or his chest as I either cry or just soak up the love he gives me.

Cas is not as intuitive as Jack, but when he does notice, he understands the things I'm feeling a whole lot better than Sam or Dean do, Cas will see Jack and I sitting at the table together hugging and he'll come join us, ask me what's wrong and try to get a fully honest answer out of me, but sometimes the half assed answer is what he will take because at least I gave him more than an 'I'm fine Cas, thank you though'.

None of the boys have noticed my obsession about wearing long pants around them, especially after I stopped wearing shorts or dresses. Sam noticed first that something was up considering he used to stare at me intensely when I wore a dress - I think Sam is honestly more fascinated at how comfortable they look than actually what I look like in one. Dean doesn't notice anything other than if his beer has been drunk. Sure Dean will comfort me if I am explicitly crying outside of  a hunt, sometimes he won't understand why but once Sam informs him that it's depression, he's all of a sudden a lot more accommodating, I know Dean struggles with this himself which is why I stay away from telling him about my depression, about the things I do behind closed doors, about how I let my cuts from hunts heal into scars or let them get close to infected so they'll heal with a larger scar than they would if I took care of them properly. 

I stop at the edge of the bridge, people around me are thinking I'm just a runner, one who needs to stop for breath - which I guess is true in a sense. Sure my life is fantastic, I have everything I ever wanted, a loving family who, sure there can be moments of hatred but every family has that, they care about me and my safety - at least to their knowledge. I have a house that is incredible - house, bunker, same thing right? - I have a job that doesn't require office hours, sure it doesn't pay but there are ways around that, sure not morally correct ways nor technically safe or anything to be proud of, but if it works, I'll do anything. 

I lean on the railing and scream, nothing comes out, it feels like I'm drowning in my own head, I step up onto the railing and spread my arms, the wind blows through my hair, letting it flow out behind me as I cry. I step forward, I feel my stomach flip - this is it, this is my final breath, thank god.