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You know that mindless feeling? That feeling where you don’t feel anything at all. Where you could sit staring at a wall for two hours and it wouldn’t make a difference. Or maybe you know the feeling of drowning in plain sight? The one where you are slowly falling into a gray mindless box that you can’t find the exit. Let’s not forget the great feeling of anger. I’m not talking about the stereotypical screaming into your lovers chest. I’m talking screaming for hours, throwing things, punching the walls till your fists bleed.
Maybe the feeling of just dying? Seeing a high ledge or something and thinking, ‘hey I could just end it here’. So you also probably know the feeling of when all of this came about. You know at first, it slowly crept up on you, just enough for you to notice, but not to worry. Like a predator stalking its pray, but it always catches up. Then the next faze where you notice it, and you try to fight it because you don’t want to be that way. So for days, weeks, months, you fight mercilessly against the war in your head. The throbbing and aching headache you get telling the voices to ‘fuck off’. This is also probably where you start to stop sleeping as much, you don’t know why either, you just do. Then eating becomes less and less of your life style choice. Your house is full of things undone, and your work is just scraping to get by. All while this is going on, your mind is feeding you the lie that you are fine. Ah yes the beautiful word ‘fine’ which most time is a lying word.
Now you’ve entered the last stage of this. You don’t care. You don’t have energy to fight anymore, you really don’t have energy for anything really. Just the same brainless schedule, anything more you are bound to have a breakdown.
Wake up. Get dressed. Smoke. Work. Smoke. Back to work. Home. Bag of chips. Smoke. Two hours of sleep. Repeat.
The beautiful schedule in which your parents warned you not to do when you were younger. Ah! The nice topic, when you were younger. You never thought you would be here, you probably didn’t. You saw outlook and hope for your future, didn’t you? A lot of people still have that hope, despite everything. Then there are people like Thomas. Waking up in the morning becoming a task on its own. Going back to the empty apartment with a bottle of vodka and a cigarette, the only two friends he needed. So that’s how he got here.
Standing on top of an old bridge at 2am, with the cool rushing water inviting him into its depths. The sharp winds, combined with the rain, hitting him like glass shards, cutting into his face. The fact that he’s not even scared, standing inches away from his ultimate demise. Falling into the murky water, and everything is over. This feeling of worthlessness and the lack of energy, gone. He could be free. Never worry about anything again. One more step and his soul would be in the air, and his body 6 feet underground. If there even was a body recovered. For most people the water would be uninviting, but for him it was the only thing he wanted to go to. It’s rushing tides calling out for him like a mother does to their child. His skin imagining the hug from the cool water, his foot teetering over the 80ft drop. Just one more step. One more step and nothing else.
Taking one last deep breath, he moves his hands to be placed directly over his erratic heartbeat, and where it will stop beating very soon. His foot his just about to move until he hears a panicked male voice, “Hold on! Please wait, get off of there!” Which he’s pretty sure he’s imagining. Right? Because there is NO fucking way there is someone else on an abandoned bridge at 3am. He’s proven wrong. “Wait please turn around, just for one minute.” The same voice calls out, even more panicked and scarred. Something about that voice makes him turn around, he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how. He just does. Turning around, he’s met by a slightly tan, slender hand, reaching out to him. “Please get off, we can talk. Please.” The mans voice is breathless. Like he’s been running. Before Thomas can even say anything, his head is shaking quickly. There is no fucking way he’s going back. The empty apartment. The empty life. Being a zombie, brain dead.
Instead of moving his hand away, he didn’t, instead he kept his stance, his eyes pleading. “Please,” He says, “Give me 30 days. 30 days to show you that you should live. Please just give me 30 days that’s all I ask. If you still feel this way,” he draws in a nervous breath, “I’ll leave you alone. Just please come down.”
He felt water in his eyes, and not from the rain. Some random person was willing to waste their time on helping a suicidal kid, who hated himself more then anything in this world. A kid who wanted to just throw his life away, and yet somebody didn’t want him too. Thinking about his options he has a couple. He could just ignore the man and jump right here right now. Then again, he could also just take the strangers hand, and hear him out with his so-called “reasons to live”. Even his family never even knew, then again they probably didn’t care much really. Maybe that’s why seconds later, he feels himself reaching out to meeting the strangers hand, their fingers locking together, with him feeling the body heat of the other man.
A relieved smile creeping onto the other mans face, realizing the boy is off the ledge. Thomas stares at him, looking at his every move. “30 days,” The man starts, “Just 30 days. No more. No less. Deal?” He holds out his hand again, telling him to shake it to close the deal, the usual thing. Staring at it hesitatingly, not knowing if he can make it that long, but he makes up his mind.
He shakes the mans hand.
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