It's Not Cool | Jonas Brothers

Chapter 48

*Strong trigger warning. Explains a suicide attempt. I advice not to read it if it triggers you. Make sure to reach out for help, professional even, if you need help or want to talk.*

Nick's P.O.V.
I took a pill, but it didn't leave me numb. I have a bottle of sleeping medication in my room. I took one, because I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't find sleep.

I wanted to sleep and feel numb. I felt horrible. I felt like I was getting sick over all that was going on in life and going through my mind.

I lay restless in my bed. Tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position. My bed is always comfortable in the mornings. It is cold. I'm freezing under the double blankets. I already put an extra one over me, but it didn't help.

I keep myself from taking another one. Another one could mean I could pass away in my sleep from an overdose. How appealing that might sound right now.

I, I, I and I. I'm selfish. Another I again. I'm so self-centered. Another I. I let out a sigh and curse my mind for using I once more.

When we grew up, mom raised us to be selfless. To help the people in need and to look out for our siblings and have each other's backs. Did I get my selfishness when I got diagnosed with Diabetes? Did I get it way before that? I can't remember when I became so self-centered.

I review the last couple of months. I had so many breakdowns that they can't be counted on my ten fingers. Not even if you put anyone's hands next to me to have twenty fingers.

I have harmed myself and thought of many ways to hurt myself even more. I once pulled of my pod. That hurt and was stupid. It left marks I don't want to see ever again. I have to see them. I have to change my pod every now and then. I have to see them when I have to use my pod to bolus.

After a couple of hours and more tossing and turning, my thoughts had brought me to a bad place. Many depressing thoughts had entered my mind and like before. I wanted to die.

I don't care anymore. I want to die. I want to leave this place. I love my family, but I hate my life and my disease and everything that has got to do with it.

I thought of many ways to do it, but all would leave a mess and I can't do that to my family. I wish I would die in my sleep to have them find me peacefully like I'm still asleep. That I wouldn't have fought to go. That they don't have to see a mess that is me and that they don't see a horrible sight that would haunt them forever.

Overdosing might work. But what if I throw up, someone will find me in time and then the world finds out. I can't do that. I can't use other things to try and end it. My eyes widened and I sat up straight in bed. I found the perfect idea.

It'll take some time, but it won't be the worst. I'd spread it over a couple of days. I want this, but I'll give life another small chance. Until the end of the week I will slowly work myself up to an insulin overdose. If I overdose at the start of the evening, they will never know. They will find me in the morning. I will leave notes, but hidden. So that if they find me, it will look like a simple insulin overdose.

They know my levels have gone haywire anyways. No one knows how to properly bolus me these days anyways. So what if I they think I was trying to do right? They won't know until the shock of my death is gone and then they'll find out the true story.

I couldn't not leave notes. Even if I have the perfect way without a trace, they deserve to know the truth. They need to know what exactly happened to me. I want them to know what exactly happened to me. I don't want them to live in a lie for the rest of their lives because of me.

Is it wrong that I felt excited in that moment? I would finally be released from everything. I will be free and I will be over and done with. I feel bad for my family, but this is what I need to do. I need to go.

The days didn't get better and I ended up in the bathroom. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes red and I felt a slight headache. The stress of really going through with this.

"Here we go." I whispered to myself to get some courage. I want to do this and I'm ready.

I turned off the lights in the bathroom, closed the door, and entered my bedroom. I closed the door. I sat down on my knees and made a prayer for my dad, for my mom, for my brother Kevin, for my brother Joseph, for my little brother Franklin, for my little sister Pippa and for my dog, who I'm going to join really soon.

I laid down in my bed and turned on my side to be able to reach my pump. I'm already too low, and when I mean low, like ground/bottom low. I bolused more, hoping it would be enough.

Someone knocks on my door and I get nervous. Mom enters my room and she walks over to my bed. She gives me a kiss, I don't know why, it's been a while since she's done that. "I need you to know that I love you." So she does this because she feels like she's failed Pippa.

"Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale." Mom states. I nod. "I'm good. Just a little cold. I already grabbed an extra blanket." She nods, now noticing the extra blanket.

"Have a good night." She gave me a smile and left my room. Do I feel guilty? Yes. Do I want to stop? I don't know. I can't live anymore. I need to go. I'm sorry mom.

I bolus some more, knowing they might figure it out eventually anyways, by seeing how much insulin I used, but they can't use it against me, because I will be gone.

I toss and turn, feeling a little uncomfortable. I'm thirsty and want to reach for the water bottle on my nightstand, but I can't. My muscles don't allow me to move.

Finally I fall asleep and find the rest I was looking for.