In which Frank's depression decides to be a bitch and Gerard tries to comfort him.
Tw: depression, mentions of suicide.
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Depression is horrible and absolutely terrifying - it's undescribable. Frank knows this because a few years back, depression crept up on him and fucking destroyed him. Frank never understood why he was so depressed. He always felt guilty and ungrateful. As a teenager he was constantly reminded that others have it worse than him or this is not real, it's all in your mind.
His parents took no notice of their teenage son falling apart more and more everyday until that one horrible moment, which involved a bathtub, an empty bottle of pills and an unconscious Frank with vomit dribbling down his chin.
Frank remembers the look of disappointment in his mother's eyes when he woke up in the hospital. His father didn't say a word to him for weeks.
That quite unfaithful day, little sixteen year old Frank was done. Done with life, school, oblivious parents, friends who pretended to care and dealing with this stupid depression he was cursed with.
Frank hated himself - no, scratch that, he loathed himself with every fibre of his being (and he still does to this day). But on that day in particular the self-loathing was suffocating. Frank felt as if he had the weight of the universe on his shoulders. And that's how his parents came to realise that their son was suffering. Frank was grateful but angry at the same time. The only thing Frank hated was the fact he was forced to see a psychologist which meant, opening up and talking about feelings and motherfucking antidepressants.
Frank hated those stupid white pills with a passion. He hated them so much. He always felt slightly less human when he took them. And the sad fact was that they worked on and off - like he'd be going three weeks straight feeling as if he's on top of the world and then the next week he'd feel like utter and complete hell.
And now to this day, Frank, who is alive and physically healthy. His mental stability, was somewhat okay - for a twenty one year old, who still took those irking pills. He still had days where he would have horrible depressive episodes - which made him shut down for days, sometimes even weeks. The only person who actually puts up with Frank and his episodes was his boyfriend, Gerard.
And today, Frank felt like curling into a ball and locking himself in the bedroom until he dies and maggots make a home out his decaying body. Frank was drowning in a sea of self-destructive and self-loathing thoughts. What's the point of life anyway? We all die anyways, Frank thought bitterly.
His boyfriend, Gerard, was already awake and Frank could faintly hear his humming from the kitchen. If Frank had the energy and motivation to smile, he would've. He didn't want to tell Gerard, that today was one of those days. Frank was afraid - no, fucking terrified of Gerard getting fed up with his bullshit and would leave him. Just the thought of Gerard leaving him made Frank's stomach twist into uncomfortable knots and made his heart break into a billion tiny pieces because Frank loves Gerard more than he loves himself.
