It hurts | Troye Sivan fanfic

1

When something bad happens to someone you are close with, all anyone cares about is that person.
They don't ask how you're doing.
They don't care how you're doing.

No matter how many shrinks I see, or how many prescriptions I get, nothing is better than someone showing they care.

Because sometimes it's more painful watching someone else hurt than being hurt yourself.

Sometimes you wish and pray that you are going through what a loved one is just so they didn't have to.

Sometimes you feel you just can't watch and wait anymore.

But then someone does care about you, and they are watching you hurt.

It's a vicious cycle.

*

My name is Troye Mellet. I am 21, and am struggling depression. Have been for a while, and I fear I always will.

It's as though I'm trapped. Just. Watching myself I guess.
I'm not living my own life,, it's like I'm floating outside my body, watching myself laugh, watching myself  smile.

I feel nothing

Mum says it's something everybody goes through.

Dad avoids talking about it at all costs.

Even Tyde, Sage, and Steele ignore the fact I'm hurting.

*

I looked around my back yard, at the pools surface slowly rippling, and the grass slightly moving with the wind.

Other than the occasional noise from inside the house, everything was silent.

Usually, in a moment like this, I would call Connor, text him, or just think about him. My therapist told me to avoid thinking about him, or the incident, as it could worsen my mental state.

It's been three months, and not once has someone even stopped to ask me how I'm doing. How I feel.

Sure, although they ask how I am, like "hey Troye, how're you" nobody has ever sat me down, and tried to understand what I am feeling.

Perhaps if I lashed out, went crazy and just cried all day people would realise.

Perhaps if I killed myself, everyone would realise how fucked up this all is.

"TROYE!!!" Tyde shouted from inside, summoning me for breakfast.

Ever since the incident occurred, my mum and dad have insisted on us having meals together, every single one.

Dad had already put a bowl of Cheerios at my place at the table, with a tall glass of orange juice next to it. "Tuck in" he said, sporting a wide smile from ear to ear.

How is everyone so chatty, so bubbly and loud.
How do they manage to ignore the pink elephant that has been in the room since the incident.

"I g-gotta go" I said, shaking slightly.
"It's okay Troye," Tyde said, with a sympathetic smile plastered across his face,"come down when you're ready"

I ran to my room as fast as I could and say myself onto the bed, trembling. I felt suffocated, like I couldn't breathe, and I felt trapped in my own body.

Breathe Troye, your heart is beating faster than usual because your body needs blood, you're hyperventilating because the more blood you pump the more oxygen you require. You're shaking and sweating because you are concerned about what your body is doing.

I find thinking about anxiety scientifically always calms me down.

What if you never stop feeling this way

What if you can never sing with passion again

What if you don't make it to the suburbia tour.

"Shut up" I whispered to myself, as though my thoughts were people.
"You're not gonna get to me, you can't get to me, because you are me" tears started rolling down my face, I was still trembling.

By the time my anxiety had passed over, breakfast was finished. Even though I wasn't hungry, I forced myself to eat my Cheerios at an incredibly fast pace.

I went up to my room, got my camera out, and hit record.

Although my mind was racing, I had nothing to say. All my thoughts were screaming, and they wouldn't stop until I stopped the camera rolling.

I haven't been able to record, for an extremely long time now.

I got my notebook out and started jotting down random words and phrases, such as, 'it all gets better' and other bullshit like that.

Then, I felt my phone vibrate. I took it out, and dropped it like it was burning hot when I saw the contact name.

Connor Franta.