I Think He Knows

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘀

A̸𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗿 D̸𝗮𝘃𝗶𝘀
𝟭𝟰
☾

ᴛᴡ: ʙʀᴇɪꜰ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏꜰ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ sᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ sᴜᴘᴇʀ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ.

♥︎

My dad was my hero, my icon, my inspiration. He always has been since I was born, my mother always told me even when I was a baby I liked him more- I'd tug on his bright red-dyed hair and stare at the sleeve of tattoos he had running up both arms. Obviously, I loved both of my parents almost more than anything else with an exception of my little brother Elliott.

My family was my only friends and I didn't ever care because I didn't want anyone else. Other people wouldn't know how to deal with how I acted sometimes, they would probably judge me for going to therapy three times a week, or worse they would ask me why no one saw me the summer after seventh grade.

I didn't want anyone to know about my attempted suicide and my three-month stay in the hospital. Only my parents would know about that, at least until Elliott was older. All he knew was that I was really sick and needed doctors to help me feel a little better.

He was seven years younger than me which made him exactly seven now, and last summer he was six which wasn't old enough to know his brother wanted to cease to exist. I was doing better now with a new medication and therapy but it still got bad but at least it wasn't like last year.

I barely had the energy to wake up in the afternoon which was a good indicator that I didn't need friends. All I would do is burden them with my gloomy presence and no fourteen-year-old needed that.

I would only be selfish by burdening my family but I never truly burdened them. My feelings were kept locked away for only me to feel. They would never know the truth but they could tell when I was having a bad depression because I couldn't hide that.

Struggling with your mental health can sometimes be hard to hide when you live with others because you can't lock yourself in your room without them noticing it. You can't skip showers or skip changing your clothes without them seeing it. They were obviously going to notice that you stopped listening to your loud music at the kitchen table while you painted or drew something.

They lived in the house and they knew the signs now. And when I was at my darkest I didn't have the energy to hide it anymore because hiding it was what exhausted me the most. I just wanted to shrivel up in my sadness and sometimes I wanted to take two whole bottles of ibuprofen like I had attempted last summer, and I would hope it would work this time. But then I would think of my family and how they would be devastated by my death because despite what my brain told me I knew they loved me more than anything.

My heart screamed at me whenever I thought of killing myself. I couldn't be selfish and end my own suffering, I had a mother and a father, and a little brother who actually cared about me. It was more than some had and I couldn't hurt them that way.

Who would my dad listen to Metallica with? Who would my mom pose for once I passed away and couldn't paint her anymore? Would Elliott forget me once he was older?

The last question elicited a deep sorrow within me, the thought of Elliott forgetting me hurt so badly. It hurt more than my illness because I knew in my afterlife that he would be one of the only things I would think of.

☾

"Hey, Ash?" Elliott whispered across the dining table with a hand covering his mouth as if that would stop our parents from hearing him. I contained my laugh and leaned forward in anticipation. "Do you think we could convince dad to let us watch a scary movie?"