My Saving Grace

January 22, 2013

Scott's P.O.V.
(I may just write this whole thing in Scott's P.O.V. unless you want Alex ones that is!)

As I stepped into the shower I realised what an idiot I was to send that message. He probably doesn't even like me! He was just drunk and got a couple free drinks! That's all he wanted from you Scott! Even if he does message back, he'll probably run a mile when he finds out the real me. The me that I hide from the cameras and the interviews. The me that I don't put into the music.

About three years ago I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. They are the things that control me in life. And having the two of them is just that bit worse. The depression makes me feel like not getting out of bed, I physically don't have the energy to do it but then the anxiety kicks in and I feel guilty if I don't get up. I mean, I've learnt to deal with it but I slip in and out every so often.

As I got out of the shower I leant on the sink, looking at myself in the mirror. I looked down at my arms and saw the scanned cuts and old scars. It had been a week and I almost knew that I wouldn't make it to the end of this week.

I could feel that familiar itching at the back of my head. The one that held the worst things. That made me feel like being on this earth was not worth it. That no one loved me, which was probably true. I was surprised Mitch had put up with me for so long.

Looking back up at my face I noticed how pale I had become recently. White as a feather. I could tell that the hangover was wearing off too because my thoughts were beginning to go back to the normal that I was used to. The normal that no one else would think as normal but it was normal to me.

I reached up to the cupboard and grabbed the bottle, pouring two pills into my hand, I dry swallowed them and walked out to my bedroom. Picking up my phone I noticed the message that had come through. I felt my heart beat quicken as I began to read it.

'You too! Yeah, totally. Starbucks tomorrow?' My hands started to sweat and my head started to spin. Why did he text back?! Who would text me back?!

'Yeah sure, see you around 11.' I sent the message quickly and got ready. I couldn't stop thinking about it. He text me back! He really actually text me back!

As I stepped out of my room, I was greeted with an extremely confused looking Mitch. "I swear you look like you just bathed in kittens!" He remarked, grabbing his keys as we walked out the door. I rolled my eyes, once again.

"Can't I be happy?" I asked, then realising how stupid that statement was. Truth was I couldn't be happy. It was medically proven and I believed it. My happiness would last for hours tops and then would suddenly be shattered by my thoughts, my demons and my idiocy.

Mitch looked at me as we got in the car. I could tell he was going to ask that question that he asked me every time I got caught in my thoughts. "I'm fine." I told him before he could ask.

I could remember back to when the doctors first diagnosed me. They told me that I needed to go to therapy. That I needed to be fixed. I didn't need anyone to fix me though. I just needed to get back to normal. So I didn't go to therapy. I never have gone to therapy and I lived my life as normally as I could. I can remember Mitch telling me that I should get help. That it wasn't healthy for me to live like this but I didn't want to inconvenience someone by making them help me. They wouldn't be able to fix me anyway. I was stuck like this.

Any time that I do think or talk about depression and anxiety I usually refer to the two of them together as a monster. Like the monster that you are adamant is under your bed when you're a kid, but you never actually see it. It creeps around wherever you go but you don't see its living form, unless it takes control of my body. Which it does a lot. I can always tell when those days are coming though. Those are the days that I stay locked away in my bedroom.

"Boys, you're late." Was what knocked me out of my thoughts. I blinked hard to see Esther stood in front of us. I hadn't even realised that I had gotten out of the car.

"Sorry, Mr. Hoying here spent about an hour in the shower, thinking about the guy that he almost hooked up with last night." Mitch said as we opened the door to the studio.

"We did not almost hook up. We just talked." I said rolling my eyes as they landed on Kirstie. She smiled and hugged me.

"Yeah but you woke up starry eyed! Like you had just slept with Zayn Malik." Mitch sassed. I playfully slapped his arm and joined the group.

All through out rehearsal I couldn't take my mind off of the boy that I had met last night. I didn't know what it was about him but there was something that made me feel right. I had only talked to him once for Christ sake. We would probably find out tomorrow what else was good about him. But until then I could only think and hope and sing that is.