On the third day of emptiness, I call again.
Because it's compelling me too. And maybe, I just need someone to talk to.
"Teen Help at your service."
"It's me, Amy. Is it someone? As in the person, someone?"
"Yeah. Hi. Again, Amy. "
"Is it just me or is there only one operator." Him. Again. I don't know if I can talk to someone again.
"Ha. There's only me." He laughs. It doesn't make me laugh. It doesn't even make me smile.
Because, like I said, I never smile. I never laugh. I haven't... For ages.
"Oh. That sucks. What happens when you're sick or absent?" I ask, sarcastically.
"Well someone else fills in...? Okay. Nice to know you hate me so much... Well," he took a deep breath. "How can I help you?"
"Find. Me. A. Reason. To. Live." I'm exhausted, tired of hurting, and I just revert to my blunt ways. Because, I figure that it's the only way to get an answer.
"Okay. Our chat escalated quickly. Again. Can you say anything else but that?" he asks jokingly.
"Yes." I grit my teeth. It's not really anything to judge about, if you ask me. It's not. Funny.
"I'm Amy. Sixteen. My mother is dead. My father is an alcoholic. I'm depressed and dying inside, searching for something to live for. I'm sick of life and I want to kill myself. I'm kind of desperate here..." I trail off, hoping I haven't dashed my chances forever by making the wrong impression on a guy that's supposed to be able to help me. Even though he sounds like he isn't much older than me at all.
"Well... I can see. That's dark and deep." Then there was an awkward pause and none of us say anything.
"Do you understand now?" I feel irritable and his tone of voice is driving me crazy.
"Yeah. Just don't know what to say."
"Maybe start of with your name."
"Fine. Hi. I'm Kyle."
"Nice to meet you Kyle. At least you aren't someone anymore."
I hang up. I don't feel like talking anymore. I feel like he's mad, wherever he is. Somewhere.
But all I want to do is sleep.
I'm tired. As usual.
I try to sleep, but it takes too much effort.
I lie awake staring at the ceiling as the still bright light filters through the blinds of my window. I groan, getting up and shutting the curtains.
Darkness.
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xxx dreamer
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melancholia ✔︎
Kurzgeschichtenall i need is a reason to live. a reason to keep living in this hell you call life. because melancholia is just too hard to control all alone.
