A Story Called: War

It hurt so much inside. All I could feel was the pain and sadness. This was like a dark creature at the bottom of the sea. It feels no pain, has no mercy and keeps no love in its dead heart, only hate. It was overwhelming and I couldn’t see that bright light therapist say is up ahead. There was only darkness. That is what only a portion of my depression felt like. I actually named my depression War. My soul hates how it makes me feel hollow afterward. I feel deprived of love and life. Hollow comes on like a rainstorm. Sometimes you can see it coming, but other times it hits suddenly, fast and furious, then, just as quickly, it disappears. We have constant skirmishes battling on. I normally am the loser and the next time it only comes back, worst than the last time.
I have thought of killing myself multiple times. It’s never really far from my mind. The idea of a sweet escape appeals to me like water would to a guy stranded in the desert. The only thing that has stopped me is the fear of the unknown. What if this life that I’m in now is the easy life and whatever lies beyond has a bigger hunger than War. I shiver at the thought.
At school I walk through the halls. There is a big smile plastered to my face. The smile is bright and convinces people, but it is 100 percent fake. I keep waiting for one of my fellow students to say, ‘Hey Delia, would you get that phony smile off your face?’ No one does. Or maybe they see it but they convince themselves that I am not depressed because they don’t want to find out. It doesn’t matter; what could they do to help? It would all just fall apart when I slit my throat or hang myself by a belt in the bathroom. I let myself half smile at that. There was a boy that always said he would hang himself in the bathroom but never really meant it. He was video chatting live on the web and was going to pretend to tie a belt to the shower. He had the belt around his neck and it tied to the shower pole. He stood on a chair saying he was just going to jump and get in over with. At the second he was going to back out-again-the slippers he placed on his feet slipped and he started to fall. He tried to regain his footing, only to have his windpipe obscured by the belt. The whole school watched him on their computers as he chocked. Apparently I was the only one who saw it coming.
I slid into my desk and muttered a curse. I could feel it coming on. Please War, stay away! It descended slowly, enjoying the feel of my fear. I was getting chocked up as my airway constricted. Inside of me, I was fighting a dreadful war with War. It was a hurricane raging. My thoughts stayed focused on the present, insisting that I stay here. War demanded that I surrender or it would grind me to a pulp. I could see the battle being fought in my mind.
War was enclosed in black metal. My depression had a males’ body with thick thighs and bulging muscles. His eyes were glowing a blue-black color that spoke of death. I swung my double-edged sword toward Hollows mid-section, but it quickly pared my blow then followed with a lash at my throat. I jumped back and saved myself from getting beheaded. The blade in his hand looked terrifying. The hilt had the Grimm Reaper standing on an all-seeing eye. The actual sharp edge was forked and had an inscription carved into it. He stabbed at me again but I was too slow to block it and got a deep cut in my shoulder. The pain was blinding. My arm wasn’t moving right so I had to fend off War’s furious blows with only one hand. He could sense that I was closer to losing than winning and with revived energy stabbed again. Hollows blow landed right into my stomach. I felt myself fall, but I couldn’t get up. Despair won again.
My bed brought me no comfort as I was laying down shivering. The hollowness was in me ten times worst than the last time. I used the last of my energy to reach for the knife I kept hidden in my nightstand. It was the exact blade that I imagined Hollow stabbing me with. I held the knife, liking the way the forked tongued blade slid along the veins of my wrist. I pricked the skin. You say this is suicide? I say this is a war, and I’m losing the battle.