Call Out My Name|| Tom Kaulitz

what's the point?

He was standing right in front of the closed door, in front of me.

His tall figure was almost intimidating, since he was about 7 inches taller than me.
His braids fell perfectly on his shoulders, and his forehead was covered in a white headband.

'Yeah, sure', I said, while he looked at my bed, almost as asking if he could sit there with me.

I sat on the edge of the bed, with my legs crossed, while he sat next to me, looking at his hands.

He stayed silent for a bit, just staring at the floor, as if he was searching for the right words. There was something strange in his eyes, he almost looked like he was regretting something, and I was starting to get a little bit worried.

'How are you?', he said, after what seemed to be hours. He finally looked at me, and took my hand in his.

I was confused about that gesture, - in another situation, or with another person, I would've thought about it as something cute or even caring, but it was unusual coming from him.

I looked at his hand, that barely touched mine, and I looked at him, like I was trying to understand what he wanted to say without hearing his words, because I wasn't sure if I could have any kind of confrontation with anybody.

'What's wrong, Tom?', I asked him, completely ignoring his question, - I just wanted to know what he needed to tell me.
My anxiety was through the roof, and I was starting to feel a little nauseous.
Anxiety was another of those feelings that never left my side, and I never liked it, at all: it made me feel like I was tiptoeing in front of a cliff, in the dark, not knowing what I would've touched once I jumped.

Tom sighed, alternating his glance from his hands to me.
He took his time before answering my question, but once he did I regretted asking him that.

' I know what you did, Pearl, or what you tried to do. Why didn't you tell Bill? He could've helped you, we all could have'

I immediately removed my hand from his, shocked at his words.
How could he know? I made sure nobody knew, nobody expect my parents, who were the ones who found me lying on that cold floor, and my doctors, because they had to know in order to treat me.
I didn't want anybody to find out, it made me feel powerless, worthless, and I was not that type of person.
I wasn't weak.
I was stable, sure of myself, - I knew what my path was, I knew what I was doing.
Or at least that's how I wanted to feel, what I've been dying to feel since I was alive, like I was a normal personal.
The awareness that someone knew about my pathetic attempt to change something in my life, to change myself and everything that was wrong with me made me feel like a failure, like I was some kind of joke.
Not that attempting to end my own life would've changed anything, if not it made things worse, but I didn't really plan on surviving anyway.
I felt like I would've had all fingers pointed to me and a thousands laughters booming in my ears, and all human relationships that I would've had would've been motivated by pity, and not by love or affection.

I quickly got up from the bed, running my fingers through my hair, and starting to pace back and forth.
I couldn't say a word for the first 5 minutes, while Tom was still sitting on the bed, looking at me freaking out in front of him.

'How do you know?', was the only thing I could say, looking at him with a cold expression on my face, as I was trying to distance myself from him.

'It doesn't matter now, I just want to know why you did it', Tom stood up, trying to come up to me, but I backed up a little, therefore he just stood a few inches away from me, and once again I noticed how mighty his figure was in comparison to mine.

'Well, I don't think that's any of your business, Tom', I regretted those words as soon as they came out of my mouth, but deep down they were true.
Tom was nobody to me, and surely I wouldn't have opened up to him like he knew anything about me.

Tom was a little shocked to hear my response, and he too backed up a bit. I didn't know what he was expecting to hear from me.

'Yeah it wouldn't be, but when your shit hurt Bill too, then it becomes my fucking business, Pearl', right in that moment I saw that look in his face, - that empty and embittered look that I remembered.
And thinking about it, he was right, I never thought about how my decision would've affected Bill.

'Get out, Tom. I have to work to tomorrow and I need to sleep', I knew I had to apologise, tell him he was right, that I was going to talk to Bill, but I couldn't.
I just walked to the door opening it, and waiting for Tom to get out of my room.
Tom looked at me for a couple of seconds more, hoping that I would say something else, but when he understood that I was not going to talk he stepped out of my room, shutting the door behind him.

I stood completely frozen right by the window for a couple of minutes, before going back to my bed.
I wasn't crying, I wasn't sure if I had the strength to cry again.
After all, I just wanted to disappear, for what was the second time in three months, but maybe if I actually did it the first time, none of this would've been my problem.

I knew that that was an extremely selfish thing to say, and that mere thought quickly transformed in another reason to feel shame.
Everything I was feeling was shame: shame of what I tried to do, shame of myself, my body, mind, and my actions.
I felt ashamed for the things that I did, as well as the things that I couldn't do, - nothing was enough for me. If I did something, it was wrong, and if I didn't, I was too stupid to be able to.

Deep down, I knew I could've done everything, I could've changed everything, but I still would've felt like I wasn't enough in comparison to all the people that I had in my life.
I felt like everyone had everything I wanted, everything I needed, but I didn't, something was always missing.
And I could've had everything in this world, but it still wouldn't have been enough, I would have always wanted more and more.
I never wanted to have something more than other people, - it was never about being the prettiest, the smartest, or the richest girl in the world, I just wanted to feel like I was living, and not just survinging.

I wanted my days to be happy, not extremely depressing, with just some moments of excitement floating in a sea full of dark thoughts. I felt like I was in hell, like I was caged in my own thoughts and feelings.
'For how long have I felt this way?', I asked myself, and the answer popped in mind not even a split second after.
Probably years, and every year that went by I told myself that I was getting better, I was happier, everything was finally going good.
But was it? Was I lying to myself?
That night would've been the only bad decisions I would've taken, just an impulsive thought, or would I have reconsided it?
And if I succeeded, at last? The burden, the weight I would've left on everybody else, would it have been that deep as everybody was trying to make me believe?

In my head I was never a special person, I never had something that made me think that maybe everyone would have missed me, if I was gone.
All I ever felt was guilt, shame, hopelessness, - was that what life was all about?
If so, what was the point?

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We're getting deep and personal here 🫠