Ode of Laundry Machine **

Sock - I tried

TRIGGER WARNING! ANYONE WHO HAS DEALT WITH DEPRESSION OR ALCOHOLISM MAY FIND THIS CHAPTER INAPPROPIATE! (Btw this chapter will be a little short. I don't like writing about depression much)

I tried. I tried to make everything better and yet, I could feel myself falling slowly, slowly. But how long could I fall before I hit the bottom? I would seek the liquor cabinets for advice. The fogginess in my brain comforted me. When I didn't have alcohol, I would sit in a corner, weighing the feeling that was my sorrow. I knew I couldn't stop now. I needed the escape from my head. Dark thoughts consumed me only to be drank away. The food Clorox made was barely a necessity anymore. I would have the occasional salmon, but anything else made me sick. The kids would try to talk to me often, but I couldn't hear a word they said. My mind was empty yet, full.

I barely acknowledged Breadward's existence. He kept to himself mostly. Why would he want to talk to me though? I'm a violent, selfish, burden. My life was numb. Days came and days went. I could hardly keep track of the time. Clorox would try to take away my shelter, but the shelter was the only thing blocking my rainstorm of a mind. I would sometimes lay down on my bed, laughing to keep the darkness away. But it somehow kept finding it's way in. Clorox eventually refused to buy liquor. I then turned to cutting myself. The feeling of the blood trickling down my "arm" soothed me. The crimson color filled my eyes and brain. I wore long sleeves to protect my little secret. Most would say that I was sober at that point, but me, I was high on the feeling of my own blood.

When Clorox and I slept together, I would beg him to "do it" with me. He didn't think it would help anything. I started losing weight, my ribcage poking through my fabric. My bones were prominent and my stomach begged for food. This was me. A wasted away, torn, piece of fabric. I was worthless. There was no point in trying anymore. I tried. The thought repeated itself in my mind, causing me to sometimes say it aloud. I would rock myself back and forth, trying to contemplate the reason for my existence. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

I spent weeks in this state, struggling to find a way out. I was all alone, it seemed. I was going down with no one to come with me. I somehow ended up on the roof, my arms spread wide. Someone called my name. Clorox. He probably still cared, but that was not enough. He held my hands in his, Tears flooding his face. "Please don't do this Sock," he pleaded. I couldn't feel anything. I was numb.

I let go.