You can't save me, I'm damaged goods.

Back home

Every part of me wanted to lay down and cry the moment I stepped inside my home. There was no longer a part of me that didn't regret my decision. What have I done? I threw away my only friends...

Flashback

I had bought a ticket for the first plane home, and a couple of hours later I stepped out of my room to leave. At first, I thought the others had stepped out, leaving me behind as I had asked them too, but then I saw Jin in the kitchen. He was cooking something and his back was facing me. I cleared my throat so he would notice me. He spun around quickly, and I must have been blind to not notice the streaks of old tears down his face.

"I'm leaving," I declared, without looking him in the eyes. "oh," he said. "Will you tell the others?" He nodded, and I could just barely see it in the corner of my eyes. "Here, I made some food. You can bring it on the plane," he stepped forward with a box in his hands. I accepted it because I didn't want to hurt his feelings further, but I still wouldn't look him in the eye. This became too much, so I turned on my heel and walked straight out the door.

 The only way to grab a taxi was if I was closer to town, so I had to order one on my phone. I didn't want to wait outside the house and risk meeting some of the others, so I started walking down the road. It didn't take long for the tears to run down my cheeks, but I couldn't bring myself to go back. I might have hurt them with my words now, but I know I will only bring more pain if I stayed.

The ground was crushed slightly beneath my feet, the gravel turning to slightly orange dust as I walked. Wawes of heat could be seen everywhere as the beaming sun shone down. It was warm, not surprisingly, and the sweat was building on my face and body. There was no one around, and when I looked back I could no longer see the house.

How am I supposed to turn up for work again? I can't look them in the eyes ever again. I have to quit my job, so I won't bother them anymore. I'll do it when I come home.  I nodded to myself, feeling better now that I had a slight idea of a plan. My thoughts were interrupted when I saw a car driving down the long curvy road. The taxi was here.

End of flashback

So that's exactly what I did. As soon as I came inside the door, I fell down and let my heart well in the misery. The tears had pooled up in my eyes for hours now and I could finally let them fall. Stumbling my way to the bedroom, I tried to feel on my skin. Or more specifically on my arms and wrists. The aching starting in my heart and spreading out in my body, telling me, shouting to me, whispering to me to take a sharp blade and see the crimson flow out.

The walk to my bed seemed to last an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few seconds later that my head was buried in my pillow, trying to stifle my sobs. It was childish that I was the one crying when I had pushed them away. If this was a movie then they would have done it long ago, but this was real life and they were much too polite to do any of the sorts.

How many times had I cried in this bed? How many times had I needed to force my hand to cover my mouth just to make sure none of the neighbors would hear? How many times had I wished to be dead without having the courage to do anything about it? Too many. Way too many times.

I stayed in bed for quite some time. It didn't surprise me, but I still couldn't find the energy to get up. My body was healthy and I had not done any heavy stuff and yet I couldn't get my body to get up from the bed. My mom would call me lazy, I call it depression. My friends call it tired, I call it exhaustion. Mental exhaustion. My thoughts were inevitable and they drained more exhaustion than anything else. My mind was my worst enemy.

A thought popped into my head, and I decided to do something I hadn't in a long while. I'd talked to a couple of doctors over the years. None of them helped, but there was this one time I got a tip that I could actually use a couple of times. Normally writing down my feeling would make me feel worse. Being sad and acknowledging that I was sad were two different things.

I decided to write a letter. A letter dedicated to someone I knew, because it made feel a bit better when it actually felt as if I would ever tell anyone how I felt. I rolled over to the side of the bed and got out the notebook and a pen from the small desk standing there. This time I would write to someone new.

Jungkook

Last time I saw you, I was shouting in everyone's face. It was one of the first times I actually lashed out and told just a small part of what I was feeling. I regret it now, but I can't change what happened no matter how hard I cry.

You must have been confused because I've never talked about this with you. Hopefully, you'll never have to hear about it either. It's a sad and pitiful story, I wouldn't want anyone to hear something as boring as the story of my life.

It's ironic. I've been alive for a long time, and yet I've been feeling dead in the past years. It was just when you stepped, fell, into my life again that I seemed to live. My lungs seemed to fill with more air, my heartbeat stronger and louder. You woke a part of me that I thought was lost and I can never thank you enough, even though I know you would not be happy reading this. 

I wish I could explain how I felt. What makes me feel what I feel. I wish I could make you understand. I wish I could, but I can't. How can I explain when I don't even understand what I feel myself. If I ask myself why I'm sad, my answer would be "no reason". I have no reason to be sad, but I am. 

Sometimes I'm not even sad. I'm just numb. But that feeling is worse than being sad. Numb means not feeling anything at all. I pinch myself trying to wake up from the emotionless dream, but just like the rest of my existence, the pain of the pinch is washed out into an ocean of gray numbing feeling. Like anesthesia. It's in my body without permission, and I can't do anything to escape it except sleep.

But sleep doesn't always help. How can it, when my feelings change from just a feeling to vivid pictures displayed behind my eyelids? It's like wording your fear, hearing your anger, seeing your pain.

I've been this for so many years, and I can't expect it to get better anytime soon. That hope disappeared long ago. My only wish now is that I can stop making other people feel pain, just because of my existence. I'm tired of knowing that my friends are saddened by the way I am, and it hurts more than you can imagine knowing there's nothing I can do about it. Well, almost nothing. I wonder how many times I've tried to end my pitiful excuse of a life. One day I'll succeed. Hopefully, that day will be here soon.

I'm sorry. Sorry for writing this. For yelling at you. For trying to be your friend. For loving you... I realized it when I saw you that day. The last day I had friends. Even though you were pissed, staring at me like you wanted to kill me, you were so beautiful. How could someone not love such a beautiful person like you?

I'm sorry

I love you

Goodbye

❤️❤️❤️

I think this is one of my worst chapters. I tried to really make this "letter" special, putting meaning behind every word, but I'm still not happy with it.

Thank you so much for reading my story, and an especially big thank you to @imma_depressed_angel for being the first to vote on my story! Please comment and vote if you like. 

Have a great day/night