They Weren't Kidding

Chapter 13

A/N: This chapter has mentions of self-harm and insinuations of suicide. If you are sensitive to these topics, don't read or just be wary. 

I had never felt more alive and happier than when Ryan and I dated. She made everything better. Mundane routines seemed to be new and exciting when she was involved. I never wanted to ever lose her. Yet, that is exactly what happened. Well, I mean, that's sort of what happened.

One night we were talking, as we often did, online.

"Guess what time it is?" she wrote me. I could hear the excitement in her voice through the words on screen. I let out a bit of a chuckle, imagining her saying the words herself.

"What time?" I asked, curious as to what she had in store for the moment.

"Q and A time," she responded simply.

We would often do this. One or both would ask questions about the other and the other would have to answer no matter what. All questions were free reign. It didn't matter if they were personal or not. We would set time aside to do this specifically.

The moment I saw the words, I dreaded partially what was to come. It wasn't giving responses that scared me. It was the questions. I was always shit at coming up with good questions to ask her. I began to over think the whole process. That moment, depression hit me harder than normal.

I deal with depression every day since I was in sixth grade. Though, there are moments it becomes manageable. There are other times that it hits me like a ton of bricks. In those moments, I become something I'm not proud of, something that genuinely terrifies the shit out of me. I become something other than myself. I also do things that I'm not proud of

I couldn't even begin to come up with questions that seemed even remotely okay at that moment. I sat on my bed, dancing my fingers slightly over my keyboard, not typing any words out. I couldn't ask her the questions I was thinking. They were all self-destructive and I didn't want her to have to hear that. I attempted to tell her that I was unable to come up with questions that would actually be beneficial.

"I just...idk, I can't think of any good questions rn," I typed out, shortening some of the words due to the fact we were messaging online.

"Come on, just whatever pops into your head. Google some if you can't think of any," she attempts to prod me on. With every message from her that was typed out and wanting me to ask questions, I felt my anxiety rising. I began to lose control of the ability to feel somewhat normal and started to give into the self-destructive thoughts.

"I can't. I just...I can't last any longer. It's been a week and I can't stop myself anymore," I felt my fingers type. Though they were my fingers, they were not my words. My mind was slipping further and further from my grasp.

"What do you mean?" I see her respond. I'm already in the middle of typing out a message when I receive another. "Wait. I got it. Baby, it's okay. Just focus on me."

I couldn't focus on her. I couldn't focus on anyone. My mind was gone. My fingers were typing a whole slew of things that only I would say to myself. No one else had prior seen or heard this side of me. I hadn't wanted to show her that side, but I was incapable of stopping myself from typing those words. I can't seem to recall exactly what I typed; I merely remember it not being good.

She wrote again, "Just focus on me. If you need me, I'm gonna video call you." It didn't register in my head what she was saying. I merely continued to write what came to mind as soon as it entered.

The next thing I knew, I was picking up my phone, earphones plugged in. The moment I answered, I saw her gorgeous face flooded with concern. I couldn't even say hi, I was so far gone at that point. My phone lay face up towards the ceiling and no appearance of my face in the camera.