Camp Camp Oneshots and Ministories (normal version)

Coffee, giver of life

I don't know what depression is like so don't be offended if I get it completely wrong. This is just based off of my insecurities.

Looking at everyone talking in the Mess Hall with everyone talking amongst themselves, the same thought dawned upon him. They were all happier when he wasn't there. It made sense, he was a dick to everyone and always will be a dick. Everyone before camp told him he had a terrible attitude and that they didn't want to be around him. He didn't blame them for not wanting his company when he didn't even like his own.

Knowing that he was a terrible person, a terrible child, a burden, a disease, only made him feel worse as everyone inside the Mess Hall was smiling. No one smiled when he was around. He might as well leave if nobody wanted him around.

Even Nikki and Neil seemed to be having fun and even having a laugh with Nurf and Spacekid in the far corner. He wondered whether or not he not being there was the reason everyone was uniting.

The small boy debated on whether he should even enter the Mess Hall or just continue staring at everyone through the window. No one seemed to notice him or the fact that he was missing. Maybe it was better that way. He couldn't hurt anyone if he was outside drinking his coffee.

He sighed and turned away from the window, ready to walk back to his tent. He didn't need breakfast anyway. He took a sip from his bitter black coffee, immediately warming him up more than he was with his blue hoodie.

The caffeine filled drink wasn't strong enough to cure the boy's tiredness. Why could he never sleep yet feel so tired during the day? Hours and hours alone with his thoughts about his friends, family and enemies. One thing he hated about being alone was those thoughts.

He hated where they lead. They always led to what would happen after he died, how people would react, who would care. What would death feel like? Eternal nothingness? Was it going to be great? What if he would go to hell, if there was a hell? Who cared about him? His parents obviously didn't.

So many dark thoughts, keeping him awake. Or maybe the fact that he was awake was causing the thoughts. Why did they have to bum him out? The scariest thought wasn't one of death or suffering, it was the question of how his patents did it. Hopefully they weren't as bad as the Quartermaster.

Night time was always the time to ponder. Morning was the time to regret pondering. The dock was his thinking spot and where he seemed to be headed.

His shoes made the dock softly creek when he finally reached it. He squinted his eyes at the sun in the clear, blue sky that glistened off the water. It's warm heat only made him more tired than he already was. He took another long sip of coffee. Coffee, that was the only thing keeping him going.

Once he reached the end of the dock, he just stood and stared into the welcoming water.

'Maybe you could just fall in and drown," said the dark voice in his head.

"Would they miss you? Would they even notice you're gone? What would it be like to just go? You might like it."

Max found himself step closer to the edge. One more slight step and he would fall off. Heck, even if he leaned forward slightly he would go.

He waited there for a minute, letting his mind wander. The water was right there and he could just jump in and it would all be over. He gave a little yawn. Maybe the water could make him not tired yet not wake him up.

The boy felt his body lean forward, feeling the breeze against his face. He let eyes close as he fell forward, anticipating the confort of the cold water. He honestly didn't care about what would happen after he plunged deep into the water.