TW: anxiety, talk about depression, drugs (anxiety pills), addiction, withdrawal symptoms
THERE WILL BE A FLASH FORWARD A COUPLE OF MONTHS NEAR THE END OF THE CHAPTER SO BE AWARE IN CASE LATER ON CONFUSION
Dreams POV:
"Clay it's okay. You're okay. Alright? I'm not mad at all. Just take a breath, please." George said calmly, his accent soothing. Suddenly I could breathe again. All my hyperventilating slowing down.
"You.. you aren't mad?" I whispered, feeling my throat loosen from closing in. "No. I'm not mad at you. I was worried, that's all." He explained. "Clay, I want you to be honest with me. Are you okay?"
My stomach immediately sank. The feeling of butterflies consumed me, but as if the butterflies were on fire. Am I okay? I asked myself.
I have nightmares about you leaving me or hurting me, I overthink to the point I can't breathe, my house is disgusting and covered in dirty clothes and garbage and I haven't had the energy to brush my teeth or shower in days. I don't even enjoy streaming anymore because I'm all alone when it's over. Every night I struggle to fall asleep because all I do is think about you, wanting to see you, and it's hurting me. My head has been pounding for weeks, and my ribs feel like they're being crushed. All I want is for you to hold me and tell me everything that ever hurt me will go away, I want you to wipe the tears off my stained cheeks and tell me how you will never leave me and how much I mean to you, I want you to love me the way I love you.
"Yes..? Yeah." I say slowly, letting out a deep breath. George sighs,
"Please, will you please talk to me?" He asks. I shake my head even though I know he can't see me. "No.. I-I can't" I say quietly. Tears filled up my eyes until they spilled over, splashing onto my phone. "Why not?" He sounded genuinely concerned.
"Because you'll.. because I'm embarrassed. It's embarrassing." I mumble the last part.
"You know I won't judge you, right? You can tell me anything."
"What if you see me differently after? What if-if you never want to speak to me again?" I stutter, quickly regretting what I'd said.
"Oh Clay," He sighs again. I can hear in his voice how his heart broke, how he felt sorry for me. "I'm not going to leave you. Never in a million years." He reassures. I slowly slide down onto the kitchen floor and lean my head against the cabinet, silently sobbing.
"I h-have no motivation to do anything George.. I'm constantly in a state where, where I can't control anything. I've tried so fu-" My breath hitches. "I've tried so fucking hard to stop it, but it just comes back." I couldn't control my crying now. Air continued to get trapped in my throat and tears wettened my cheeks. Pathetic, he thinks you're pathetic now.
"How long have you been feeling like this?"
"M-months."
George takes a moment, "When you were diagnosed with anxiety you were prescribed medication, right?" he asks.
My head slightly perks up. They're right above me. "Yeah... A-Ativan I think?" George's voice lightened like he hadn't just heard me sobbing about my depression. "Maybe those could help? Take 1 whenever you feel unbearably anxious?" I stand up slowly and reach for the cabinet which held said medication. I take out the small bottle and look inside to see how many it contains. That's not enough.
"Okay. I'll try it." I state while wiping my eyes. "Clay I need you to promise me that you will only take 1 a day. No more than that. Do you understand?" George sounded serious like it was life or death. "Yeah. I-I promise."
"I really care about you Clay, and I.." he pauses. My eyes widen. Please say it, please say you love me. "I don't want you to be hurting, but if you take this pill excessively you will be in more pain."
Oh.
"I know. I'll be careful." George thanks me and explains he is tired so is going to go to sleep. We end our call and I grab the bottle again. I take one of the tiny pills and swallow it dry. I walk back into my room and kick some of the clothes out of the way of the door.
After around 10 minutes I begin to feel more relaxed like a small weight had been lifted off my chest.
I could get used to this.
<<<>>>
(Flash forward 3 months)
"Hello? Where the hell have you been? I've been worried about you." George says in a panic. I pick up the phone shakily and bring it closer to me. My entire body ached and was covered in a layer of sweat. I had empty pill bottles scattered around the floor. One looked like it had contents in it still so I quickly grabbed it and opened it, then threw it back onto the floor, weeping.
"Clay, what's wrong."
"You-you d-did t-this to m-me." I sobbed near the end, dragging out the 'me'. I lay the phone in between my knees and covered my face with my hands. I whimpered quietly into them.
Pain, there was so much pain, everywhere.
"You're scaring me." George's voice sounded sad. "They won't g-give me a-anymore." I cried, my breath hitching in the middle of the sentence. "I n-need something to h-h-help with the p-pain, it hurts s-so b-bad." Every word I said was accompanied by air trying to escape my lungs.
"You.. you took too many. Oh my god." His voice cracked.
"This is all y-your fault." I wailed, covering my face again. My legs were curled into my chest and I was leaning into the corner of my room, crying and crying. "I h-hate you G-George, I f-fucking hate y-you. You a-are the reason I'm b-broken. I l-loved you." I hang up and throw the phone, curling myself in closer and hiding my head in my knees.
~
I really like this chapter tbh
STAY SAFE EVERYONE
YOU ARE READING
anxious and alone |dnf|
FanfictionStreamer Dream (Clay) lives all alone in a small house in Florida. He tries to stream on the daily with his friend George, though after finding out he has feelings for George he becomes depressed. That depression came along with anxiety and addictio...
