Just Friends

March 21, 2017
By Anonymous

Late night texting, late night crying. A late night without air, a late night without thoughts. The trickling of the water pouring down the drain was drowned out by silent sobbing as his words replayed and echoed through my thoughts. Months of lies flooded into my mind, all reason was lost. “Just friends”, that's all he wanted. “Just friends”, he said he never loved me. “Just friends”, he said he felt sorry for me. “Just friends” couldn't save me from the pills, not in this moment.

Handfuls of bright red capsules struggled down my throat with the warm water jutting from the shower head. My phone rang, rang, rang, rang. The tone was deafening; my brain felt empty, my body numb. I didn't want to feel anymore and that's what I was getting.

Knocks banged on the door, I heard frantic voices coming from the other side of the white wood. “Why” I thought thought as I sat on the wet tile floor of the shower. This isn't what I wanted; I didn't want to be saved; I wanted to slip into an everlasting sleep where nothing could touch me.

The long drive to the hospital was a blur. I remember sobbing faces, cold air, my father screaming at me. Just yelling, cursing, babbling on about how much this would cost. I felt so trapped in that raggedy old truck; I just wanted to fling open the door and let myself tumble out onto the road beneath us. But I didn't , I was too weak to even lift my own head above my shoulders.

I was wheeled into the hospital, people looked at me in pity; I didn't want their pity, I didn't need their sorry looks that many willingly shot toward me. I wanted to be alone. I didn't want anyone near me. I couldn't bare to look at my father knowing how mad he was at me just because of the money he'd have to spend on me now.

In my given room I lay alone on the stiff hospital bed just thinking about the rush of events that had happened not even an hour ago. Stale, salty tears impulsively rolled down my cheeks and dripped onto the bed I rested on. Nurses came in and out of my room to reassure me and comfort me, telling me that the words of a boy shouldn't hurt me this way. Little did they know, those simple words, “just friends”, were much more than words. They were jabbing harpoons. 

The author's comments:

This piece was a small snippet from my life, only just a few months ago. The though of what had happened continuously was rambling through my head and I felt the need to get it out onto paper.

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