anxious and alone |dnf|

triggered

TW: talk about addiction, personality change, suicidal thoughts, detailed talk about suicide attempt

This chapter is going to be heavily spoken about suicide, so if you are uncomfortable with that you can skip to the end and I will leave a recap.

Dreams POV:

When I arrived at rehab, 15 days ago, I had to hand in my phone. I haven't had any outside contact in over 2 weeks. I think the people here are afraid of me. I mean, I'm afraid of myself. It feels like I'm trapped in a state where I can't control how I act. Some days I lash out at the people that try to help me get better. They must think I don't want to heal.

I locked myself in my room this morning. Everyone keeps trying to get in but I don't want to hurt them anymore. I know that this is what is preventing me from having freedom, I want to be better, but I just can't.

The more I think about George the more confused I become. I know he never intended for any of this to happen. I know all he wanted was for me to be happy. But he should have never gotten involved.

The way I feel about him makes me irritated. I want to forgive him, I want to apologize for what I've done, I want to love him. But parts of me feel so much resent and hurt towards him even though he didn't do anything wrong.

It would've been best for everyone if I'd just stayed quiet and hurt silently. 

Before my addiction, I had a plan. My depression got so bad that I thought it over every single day. I would go for a walk to see my favourite spots in the neighborhood for the last time, then I'd wait at the train station until the train arrived, waiting for the perfect time and walking in front of it. I tried it once. George and I had just gotten into a fight that night, he wanted to come live with me because he had finally received his visa, but I didn't want him to. He tried to pry and ask me why I was hesitant. He eventually gave up and began crying. "I just want to finally see you, why don't you want to see me?" It broke my heart. I felt so terrible. I did want to see him, I just didn't want him there. I tried to apologize but he ignored me. That's when I decided I was going to kill myself. George would've been so much better off without me; especially right now. I went through with my plan and stood there waiting for the train. There were a few police there, dealing with a homeless person. One of them kept staring at me. My eyes were all puffy and my cheeks were red, I was also standing right at the edge. I didn't even bother sending George a goodbye text. As the train arrived I almost stepped forward, but two of the police grabbed me before I could. I fought against them, screaming, and crying, all I wanted to do was be free of this endless pain and they ruined it. They held me down as I kicked and yelled for them to let me go. Eventually, I stopped and they brought me to the hospital. I've never told anyone about that night. I just wish I would've succeeded.

<<<>>>

"So Clay, how are you feeling today?" Carson asks, hovering his pencil over a sheet of fresh paper. "I am okay," I reply. He nods slowly, placing down his paper he looks up at me.

"Today we're going to skip all the introductories and such, is that okay with you?"

"Okay."

"I have a question for you, I won't be writing this down, just listening." I hum in response. "What's been going on in your head lately, Clay? Is there any particular reason for staying isolated from everyone else?" his eyebrows were slightly raised.

"I don't want to hurt anyone else."

"Physically?" he asks.

"I guess." I take in a deep breath, trying not to try cry. "I have completely lost control over myself. I thought it was bad while on drugs, but it's even worse when I'm sober. I don't even remember who I used to be. It's not that I don't want to get better, it's that I'm scared of getting better. What happens when I get released and I have to go back to the hell of a house I live in? When I have to face George again? When he leaves me again? I can't be alone without itching and craving the taste and feel of that smoke consuming my lungs, the powder sticking inside my nose or even the pills pushing down my throat. I am scared that the moment I leave this place I am a dead man walking, whether it's from myself or from drugs." I pause, "I am not capable of being by myself without thinking of every possible way to kill myself. But I stay hidden away and by myself because it's what I'm used to. Even though it's fucked up, those thoughts are sort of comforting."

Carson looks at me, filled with pity. "There are resources for you, Clay." I scoff. "Like what? Anti-depressants? You and I both know that isn't going to happen."

"Well no. For instance what we are doing. Counselling is a really great way of expressing what you're feeling and getting feedback on how to maintain a healthy relationship with yourself and others."

"I don't think you understand."

"Help me understand then."

I look him in the eyes, watching as he looks at me with interest. "Nothing is stopping me from going right back to where I was two weeks ago."

~

Recap: Dream talked to his therapist about how he felt out of control and scared for when he goes back home. He's worried for his own safety when he's by himself.

I am truly sorry for this chapter, however I think it's needed for his further recovery and just know it will get better.

If you're undergoing suicidal thoughts please seek help, you are loved. I love you.