In the crowd, alone
And every second passing
Reminds me I’m not home
Bright lights and city sounds
Are ringing like a drone
Jim sat on the floor in the corner of his room with the fan blaring. He did not really feel the cool air the fan was working so hard to produce. To be honest, he only turned the fan on to drown out the deafening silence. He would usually listen to music, but somehow his favorite artists he once called friends had, in his mind, turned on him and now bring him more pain than joy. As he wallowed in self-pity he heard the vibration of his mobile phone which often signaled an incoming call. As he mustered the energy to get off the floor and pick up his phone, he wondered who could be calling him. After a brief second pondering this mystery, he remembered that the only one who actually called him were his parents, and he figured this time was no different. He presumed that they were calling to find out how far he was with his school essay or something else he was supposed to be doing to better his life. These thoughts made him feel queasy and even more useless than he already did.
He picked up his phone to find that the person calling, to his surprise, was Clay, one of his closest friends. He wondered why he would be calling because they would usually communicate via WhatsApp and various other social media platforms. Jim could honestly count the number of times he had spoken to Clay over the phone on one hand. He figured that this must be an emergency or a serious topic of discussion. He answered the phone, making sure to mask his sadness as he did not want his friends to know he was more depressed than usual.
“Yo, Jimaaaayyyy!!! What’s good, son?!”
“Ha, hey Clay,” Jim replied, trying his best to sound cheerful. He could hear laughter and music in the background.
“Hey, listen. There’s this dope party going on tonight at Rick’s place. We are at Stoney’s crib right now doing a little pre-gaming and then we’ll head to the party. You should join us, bro.”
“”We”?” Jim asked, trying to get clarification on who exactly Clay was with as this may play a huge role in his answer.
“Amy, Michael, Sharon, Fritz, Lucy; the usual,” Clay answered. “So, whaddaya say??”
Jim sat at the edge of his bed contemplating Clay’s offer. He felt like he was at the lowest point in his life and maybe getting out of his room and hanging around with his friends would do him good. As he thought this, however, the dark cloud that was hanging over Jim made up his mind for him, and before he could stop himself, he responded to Clay’s offer.
“Thanks for the offer bro, but I’m just gonna have an early night.” Jim was genuinely grateful for the invitation, but deep down he knew he could not be around people in his current state.
Before Clay could respond, Jim heard a girl’s voice over the phone.
“What did ol’ Jimbo say? Lemme guess: he ain’t coming.” She laughed. “He hasn’t hung out with us in months, honey. Get off the phone and come back! We’re about to do shots!”
Although Amy didn’t mean any malice with what she said, Jim was hurt by her words. He started to feel tears running down his face. Although Jim couldn’t see it, Clay gestured to his girlfriend to keep her voice down.
“Hey, uhm, sorry about that. Pay her no mind. She’s already got her buzz on, y’know? Haha” Clay tried to ease the tension and although Jim laughed he could tell that the damage had already been done. “Yo, you good bro?”
“Yeah Clay. I’m good. Really.” Jim lied.
“You know you can talk to me about whatever man. I’m always here 24/7,” Clay urged.
“Thanks a lot man. Really means a lot. I’m good. Don’t worry about me. You guys enjoy your night. Tell the gang I said hi,” Jim replied.
“Will do. You think about what I said, aight? Goodnight bro.”
Jim hung up the phone, threw it on his bed and sat back down in his corner. As soon as he plopped himself down in the darkness the tears just ran down uncontrollably from his eyes. Amy was right. He hadn’t hung out with his friends in forever, and everyone had pretty much forgotten about him. Everyone except Clay, he thought to himself. At least this gave him some small comfort. Jim was at odds with himself. He needed to talk to someone, anyone. He needed to feel loved. He needed to feel like his life meant something. Despite this however he felt that he could not explain how he was feeling to his friends because he believed they wouldn’t understand or they would just stop being friends with him.
Jim feels that he has no purpose in life. He wakes up everyday, eats and sleeps. He can’t even bring himself to finish his essay that he had been trying to complete for three years now. He tries his hardest, but his family doesn’t see it that way. They don’t understand what he is going through, even though he knows they want the best for him and what him to be happy. He thinks about all of this and cries some more. In the midst of this emotional breakdown he glances at his desk where his antidepressants are. He picks them up but realizes that he had already taken the allotted dosage for the day. He had been taking the antidepressants for months now, but they seemed to be having no positive effect. As he put them back down on his desk he looks at the sleeping tablets he was prescribed. He hadn’t been sleeping at the right time, and his psychiatrist was worried about this.
He quickly looked away from them, but then turned back to face them. The dark cloud that urged him to decline Clay’s invitation whispered to him once again.
“Do you want to keep suffering?”
“End your misery.”
“End your pain.”
“Be at peace.”
He was supposed to take them when he couldn’t sleep, but he had tried them once and they had worked so well that it terrified him. He picked up the sleeping pills, and without knowing what happened he swallowed one. He fell back in shock and despair. He raced around his room with his hands on his head trying to figure out what had just happened. He fell to the floor again. All these negative thought raced through his head over and over again, and he found himself drawn towards the sleeping pills once more. This time, he swallowed more than one. He actually forgot how many. It mattered not. He was now crying harder than ever before. He felt like a complete failure.
He picked himself up off the floor and feebly climbed into bed, tears still racing down his face and a headache now coming on as a result of all the crying. As he closed his eyes he silently apologized to his friends and family for letting them all down. He prayed to whatever higher power watched from above for him to not wake up the next morning. He felt that he had suffered enough, and if there really was a God, he should have to suffer no more. Jim recited his favorite song lyrics in his head, and before he could finish it, he was gone.
My happy little pill
Take me away
Dry my eyes
Bring color to my skies
My sweet little pill
Take my hunger
Numb my skin
Featured Image: Overdose by Dafne- 1337art