Lung Full of Water, Heart Full of Pills

In ninth grade I wrote a version of something that had happened to me, it's just a short partially true story. I want to make it sound better, so any constructive criticism is appreciated C: try not to be too harsh though, I'm a delicate flower.




When I think too much, I find myself thinking about things that shouldn’t be thought about. Causing waves of anxiety and depression to hit me like I was a small island, and my out of control emotions are the wind and the waves that wreck me a pull me under the water. So of course, I was doing exactly that.
           “Destin?” I heard a voice interrupt me from my thoughts. “You okay?” The owner of the voice was now looking at me, awful worry sketched onto his usually happy face. “Yeah- I’m just really tired. Didn’t sleep well.” I wasn’t lying. “I’m sorry,” he smiled at me, then went back to talking to the blonde skinny girl next to him. This guy is my best friend. “Otto,” I said softly. I knew he was still mad at me about what happened last week. “We’re fine, okay?” He says curtly. “Okay,..” he looks down at his pizza and just picks at the crust. He doesn’t seem to eat much anymore. I hope it’s not my fault. I think. I really hurt him, I look down at my own food and push it away from me. School pizza sucks.
Two weeks ago, I told him I had feelings for him. I of course, was terrified. He smiled and said it wasn’t unrequited. The butterflies in my stomach increased. Then he asked me out, and I said yes, of course! He was my best friend, I already knew I loved him. A week later, I broke it off. I just don’t think I really like you that way... I said. I was lying. I loved him. More than anything. I was just afraid  and I didn’t want to get too attached, everyone leaves in the end. He didn’t talk to me for a while. I believed he hated me. I believed that’s what I deserved.
Now, it’s Tuesday November 22 and we have talked a bit, surprisingly. Hey’s and How are you?’s in the hallways, and small talk at the lunch table with our other friends. Who I might mention, are not talking to me much either. I broke my best friend, and I couldn’t put him back together.
“Destin!” Gabe says from next to me.

“What- yeah?” I say, exasperated.

“did you do the homework?”

“No, of course not.”

“Damn it!”

“Sorry,”
I then get up from the table and leave for the last period of the day.


When I get home that night, I log onto facebook. ‘5:34 pm’ I wasn’t expecting any messages or updates. I was an antisocial, lame, and generally boring person. Plus there was a rumor going around that I sacrificed cats to the dark lord Satan. I was a hated person. you're worthless my brain whispers to me. NO. It's okay its okay its okay I think when suddenly- badoop
The IM icon pops up. “Otto.”
Hey.” “hey.” We chat for a while, it’s nice, normal, for a while.  
“I was wondering do you think uh,- how many ibuprofens could kill a person?”
“Uhm, I don’t know... Why? are you planning a murder, Otto?” “Sort of.” “What?” He takes forever to type what he’s trying to say.

“I’ve been taking all day to mentally prepare to kill myself.”

The End

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