"Help"

I should be cleaning my room or something that would lead to tangible proof of work well done, but instead I'm clearing out folders on the computer. Ain't that just the way?

In honor of this, spam of the angst-y fiction variety. Yay!



  It wasn't supposed to be like this. I'm not supposed to be here, sobbing in a locked bathroom while my life waltzes on without me out there. I'm not sure whom I'm supposed to complain to about this, but there has to be someone. Preferably someone with the ability to fix this mess that I've become.
  The drugs don't work. Funny, that's part of the problem. I don't think they ever did. "You have to let your system get used to them," he'd say with a condescending smile as he wrote out the bill. Who knew you could pay someone to medicate you after spending ten seconds with you? Honestly, if I'd known that, I would have dressed more appropriately. I'd hate to think I wasted any of those ten seconds letting them think I'm one of them or a different variety of me than they thought I was. Maybe a black and white "fuck you" shirt would have done the trick? I'm sure one of my more creatively altered friends could have whipped one up for me.
  Wait, that's another problem. The friends can't make it over the wall I've built. It's funny how sometimes I'd wake up from the stupor that became my waking life and realize just how badly I was screwing things up, but there was nothing I could do about it. Funny, funny. Ha, ha. I built this wall around me to protect me from something I don't even remember though I suspect it was to avoid being hurt. Maybe I should have left off the thorns and barbed wire then, huh?
  Yes, indeed, I'm thinking this is not how it's supposed to have turned out. There's too much noise out there, you know. I can't think properly out there. So I came in here, shut the door behind me, locked it, and sat down to think. Or not think, as the case may be.
  I'm kind of lonely, come to think of it. It's funny, I had all these words spilling out of me for the past forever, and yet when I need them most, they're all gone. All the words turn to dust in my throat and I'm choking on them whenever I go to speak.
  I know I've said this before, but this is not how it's supposed to be. Where's the sunshine and the beach dates and all the fun insanity I was promised?
  I'll sue. That's just what I'll do.
  Isn't everyone supposed to have someone else? Paired up and happy and together and not all kinds of alone? Yes, I think so. So where's mine? Where's my match? I need to set a fire and I can't do that alone.
  Maybe I should turn the light off, it might help me think. Things are too bright in here. It's too bright and far too cold.
  Click.
  The lights are off.
  thump. There's a towel beneath me, just in case. There. I feel warmer already. Except my fingers. I think they are made of ice and if I'm not careful, they'll break off. That wouldn't be helpful. How else will I be able to tell people what I think of their stupid ideas since I can't speak anymore?
  The phone is ringing, but no one is answering. Maybe it's for me? But I don't want to leave the room. It's nice in here. No one in here cares if I can speak or not. No one wants anything from me. Of course I can't get anything from anyone if I'm locked away, but at least they can't take from me...
  Hours pass in the blink of an eye. An exceptionally long blink, but a blink nonetheless. I hear thumps downstairs. Someone is home. That's nice.
  Someone is calling my name. At least I think it's my name. If you say it enough time, a word will lose its meaning and I feel that way about my name. It's no longer me, it's just a bunch of letters strung together to make a sound. Although it's barely a sound anymore, just letters.
  I stand at the door and wait for someone to say something. I can hear them... but no one's speaking. No one's saying a word. Wait, no that's not true. They're just not talking about me. How rude. The one time I go and do something fascinating and they're talking about something else entirely.
  I land on the floor when my ankles give way. I'm not sure, but I think that might be a bad thing.
  Bad thing, bad thing, bad things.
  You weren't supposed to go away. Bad things happen when I can't see you. It's dark. Don't leave me here alone in the dark. I'm afraid without you here. Bad things. Bad things. Very bad, no good, terrible things.
  With you I'm not afraid. Without you it's dark. It's cold here, and I'm alone. It's cold without me.
  I don't want to be here anymore, but I can't find my way out. There's no light, not even a tiny tinkerbelle light. Nothing. There's nothing here, but there's lots of it.
  Nothing.
  There's something warm on my hands. Something wet. Make it go away. Make this all stop. Fill this hole inside me and take it away. Far away.
  I'm so tired of this.
  So tired.
  I could fall asleep here and no one would ever know.
  Please, someone find me.

  The door is making funny clicky scratchy sounds. I'm sure I'm supposed to do something, but there's a haze in the room and it's holding me close. Far away from the door, otherwise I'd like nothing more than to open it.
  But the haze, you see. It wants me to stay here behind this wall. This lovely wall of ice and stone, filled with thorns and razor wire.
  The door swings open and hits my foot, sending a warning bell off in my head. That really should hurt, shouldn't it? Ah well. Maybe next time? Cut! Do over!
  Someone stares down at me. When did I get to be so small? I wonder if I could fit in a mouse hole... I bet I could, if we had mice. Do we have mice? I wonder what a mouse hole is like...
  I begin to laugh when the pain switch in my brain finally turns itself on. Wait, that's not right.
  Laughing until I cry, and there's nothing I can do about it.
  I think I'm broken. Things just won't work the way I know they're supposed to...
  Oh, God I don't believe in right now, I think I'm broken.
  Someone's hand is on mine, clutching it, not minding that I'm freezing. I turn to them, the haze still has my eyes so I can't really see much more than a shadow.
  I begin to cough, choking on the chalk that fills my mouth whenever I try to say one silly little word.
  They wait for it. Maybe they like the cold and the dark?
  I focus all my attention, what little I seem to have left, on their eyes. So pretty, eyes...
  The chalk begins to melt, trying to choke me in a new way, but I'm too smart for that. The dark begins to run away from me, it knows the end is here. I think so anyway. Maybe someone just turned a light switch on? Doesn't matter. The chalk is sliding away, readying for another battle. I only have one chance.
  Gotta do this right. Gotta make this right.
  Oh, God, why can't the fairy godmother come and fix this all away?
  Pleading now.
  "Help?"

^-- Apparently that is three years old, exactly. Awww.