(Trigger warning second paragraph: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Anxiety & Panic Attacks)
We all went out again together, bar hopping. Joel, Eric, Matt, Jenna, Noah, and I. It was a little awkward since Jenna and Eric were the only couple there and kept trying to sneak away to make out every ten minutes, but it was fun. Better than last year when Noah and I just got drunk together at my kitchen table. We were walking from one bar to another on the crowded street and I had a slightly buzzed idea.
"Noah!" I practically shout at him. He stops and looks at me excitedly.
"What?" He yells back.
"Race me to the intersection!"
"Okay!" And with that we take off down the sidewalk, maybe 100 feet. The others take sides and cheer us on. We laugh as we get closer and closer to the traffic light. Noah trips and almost falls, but he catches himself and sits down anyway because he's laughing too hard. I win and start hitting the crosswalk button. Joel and Jenna start cheering as Matt and Eric boo at me.
"I win, baby!" I shout, throwing my hands in the air. "Woo!" I was probably annoying most of the people around us but there were a few laughing and clapping. Noah finally gets up and walks toward me.
"Hey best friend," he says smiling, still slightly out of breath. I look at him.
"Yes, best friend?"
"Will you be my valentine?" I laugh at him and he starts laughing too.
"Of course I will."
"Woohoo!" He shouts, high-fiving me. I laugh even harder as everyone catches up and the lights change, allowing us to cross the street.
Later that night, I was in the shower. It hit me again. I suddenly start crying. I don't want this. I don't want my life. I don't want everything that has happened to me. I started crying harder and harder, my chest beginning to hurt. I start screaming. It all hurt so bad. I missed him. I missed all of them. I remember the night he left. All the shouting. The slam of the door. My mom begging him to stay. But he didn't. He just wasn't happy. Then she wasn't happy. Now I'm not happy. Now I can barely even function. I'm not built for this. I wasn't built for real life. My story was just a sob story meant to end tragically. I wasn't supposed to be some sort of hero. I was a background character. I'm not meant to get a happy ending. I'm not even supposed to be included in the ending. Suddenly I find myself on the kitchen floor, fully clothed but my hair still dripping onto my shoulders. And I couldn't keep myself from falling asleep.
YOU ARE READING
Built
General FictionPeople are built for different things. Their lives mapped in various ways, and their brains structured in different forms. And no one knows exactly how it'll all end. But at least we know what we're doing for the time being. Well, that's what they t...
