Pain.
Its something everyone feels in their time. Sometimes the pain ends and sometimes it ends them.
I hadn't decided what to do with my pain in my life- there was just too much of it- yet. Well I didn't think I did.
The pain was fighting me and I didn't know if I could come out on top. Its was crushing my lungs and leaving the blood and tears as proof.
I wish I could say I met someone and it stopped my pain, just washed it away like a mark on a marble counter but I don't.
But my decision did lead me to him.
I was 17 when I'd finally had enough. The pain was leaving me defeated.
I was broken.
I was useless.
I was dead.
Standing on that wall was the toughest thing I'd ever done.
I'd planned this day for years. I knew what to do. Where to do it. But what I didn't think about was my ability to do it. I thought I'd be able to it and I nearly did.
But I waited too long.
I sat on the same wall for hours, drawing on the old brick with a sharpie I took everywhere. I left my mark on that wall and it would've faded with my memory if I'd stuck with the plan.
But at I sat with my legs in front of me all I could picture was my mum. She'd never done anything, besides the occasional yelling contest, and I knew my death would be her undoing.
You see I have four siblings:
one died at birth
one starved herself to the point of hospital admittance
one ran away never to return
and the last, and youngest cut herself
I was the happy one.
And it killed me.
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that I was furthest from happy.
Because I was the worst. But I was the best.
My depression was hidden well. I only cried in the shower and I only cut my stomach and thighs. I rarely ate when I was alone, which wasn't very often, so I didn't lose much weight off my already overweight body.
And I'm not saying I'm overweight for a laugh. I was generally over weight. 2 stone to be exact.
And as sat there staring at the end of my blue converse I knew this would kill her.
But I didn't care.
She knew I sat here and I wasn't leaving a note so maybe, just maybe, I could be passed as an accident.
If I even did it.
I never expect myself to chicken out.
I wanted this. I wanted the water to flood my abused lungs and stop the oxygen flow. I wanted my heart to stop beating and my brain to stop thinking.
I guess my first mistake was the daylight currently eating away the paleness of my white skin. Only enhancing the scars against my thighs as id chosen shorts to wear when I finally jumped in the river.
The music in my ears was loud, another mistake, but I didn't like not hearing the baseline pump my bloodstream. I guess that's why I didn't notice him.
He was just sat there. Next to me. Reading a book.
Him being there prevented me from jumping that day. I didn't want anyone there when left. I sat and looked at his face for a while though. Questioning if I knew him.
I didn't.
He had long choppy hair under a beanie that equally matched mine. He had a pale face but It was handsome. I couldn't tell his eye colour through the sunglasses framing him, but my guess was brown. He wasn't lanky but wasn't muscular either. He was perfect.
So I was confused why he turned and looked at me. He gave me a flash of white through soft pink and his whole face was like something off tumblr.
I wanted to take a picture.
He never spoke to me, not for a long time anyway. He just sat there in silence, head in a book, for hours as if he was waiting for me to do something.
Speak, move, jump?
I had nothing to say to this mystery boy, so I just sat there, flicking my eyes between the rapids and the being next to me.
I didn't know what to do.
So I left.
