You Called?

Wired

Trigger warning.

-2D POV-

I drank most of the bottle. In hindsight, that was probably a bad idea. It numbed the voices that were telling me I'd be better off dead, and that I was never gonna amount to anything in life, so why keep living it? But what it couldn't help with was whether or not I'd reveal that information to Murdoc.

Too bad that I can barely control what comes out of my mouth when I'm drunk. I feel like the part of my brain responsible for any rational thought, which is already a pretty malfunctioning part of my brain, is completely disconnected when I'm this wasted.

"I'm surprised you got most of the way through. Been a while since we drank together, you must have been practicing."

"Yeah, well, I mean, I wasn't exactly practicing."

Murdoc studied me for a moment, seeming unsure of whether or not he should push the matter any further.

"Still, I'd say that this is pretty impressive. How'd you manage that?"

Don't tell him anything, it's a ruse to get you to talk about yourself, was something that my brain pleaded I'd listen to. But unfortunately, I already have words to say. 

"Well, I just don't have any expectation of whether or not it'll kill me. You only live once, right?"

"2D..."

Shit, now he's gonna ask you about your mental state. As much as I don't want him to know, he needs to find out somehow. And as irrational as my drunken mind is, it knows one thing: I will not tell him my real mental problems when I'm sober.

"What do you want, to know, Mudz?"

"How did you?.... I just wanted to know whether or not you're... okay."

"No. I really don't think I've ever been okay in my life."

"Do you wanna... talk about it?"

No, I don't.

"I will regardless of whether I want to or not. Because right now, I'm too drunk to care whether or not you know. And my sober self isn't gonna tell you, so I guess I'm gonna have to, to save my stupid self."

I gesture to my arms that are covered in scars.

"Obviously, most of these are self afflicted wounds. You saw them before, when I first came here a few days ago. You remember my switchblade? That's what I used on my arms. I actually did some way back then too, even before Noodle died. That's why I always wore long sleeves under my tshirts."

I motion to my head, trying to somehow motion to my brain.

"There are these thoughts I get sometimes. They're like tiny voices. They tell me to hurt myself, that I'm worthless so I should just die already, that kind of thing. The voices have been there as long as I can remember, but they get especially loud when there's silence. Because of that, silence is my least favorite sound. When my ears start ringing, they start getting louder and the world around me sort of fades out."

I motion to my neck. God this one's gonna be hard to say, even with the alcohol.

"During one of the days that I was alone, I had finally had enough of life. I was alone and miserable, the voices in my head were so loud that day that music wasn't even shutting them up. I filled a tub with water, put all the medication from the bottle into my system, and got in the bath, submerging my head in the water before I passed out. The hospital had concluded that I had just taken too many pills due to a migraine, and that I had passed out in the bath due to me trying to supress the migraine but that I took too much medication. They warned me that I could have been in critical condition if I wasn't rescued. They didn't even ask whether or not I had really meant to do all that."

"Stu...I..."

"You're sorry? You didn't know? That's not how this works. I'm just telling you about all the things that are clearly wrong with me. Though I suppose listing them out would be easier. Self harm, Anorexia, Depression, Suicidal thoughts and tendencies, and Anxiety. There's all the things that are more obviously wrong with me."

"Satan, Dents let me talk for a second. I just wanted to say that I knew most of that. It doesn't change how I percieve you. I mean, I've been secretly helping you overcome half of that. You eat toast, so I'm helping you overcome your Anorexia, slowly but surely. You are clearly not as anxious as you think, based on how confident you were today alone. The self harm is a hard one to actually stop, but I have a place where I hide the knives so that you can't find them. The other 2 take time. I heard it helps if you let the person openly talk about whatever is bothering them."

I look at him, absolutely dumbfounded. How did he know all that about me so quickly after seeing me again? And he's been helping me this whole time? Why?

Author's Note:

I don't know why I write these notes when I have nothing of value to say. Umm... my favorite song from Plastic Beach is On Melancholy Hill.