Perhaps I have no right to write this one. But I don't give a shit. I'm doing it anyways. You're probably wondering why I wouldn't have a right...I don't know. But something happened with someone, and it's gotten under my skin. (I won't go into detail, because it's not my story to tell.) I don't know if I have any right to do this, because I don't know them. I've not even spoken to them. But their situation is one that has always triggered me. One of my best friends was struck with the same problem. I experienced a taste of it my senior year of high school. So, it's just something that's always resonated with me on a personal level....and even if it didn't...well I have always had a hero complex....I just can't seem to find the right words. I can't say anything to help, to make it better. To fix them. To fix me. But something happened, and this person (who will remain unnamed for privacy reasons) may be gone forever. And I don't know that I'm okay with that. Even if they were a total stranger. And I felt something needed to be done. To honor them, if this is truly their last breath that they breathe. To reach out to others like them. Like me. The lost and the lonely. The broken and scarred. To let them know they are not alone. Writing is the only way I know how to say what needs to be said. I know it's small. I know it's practically nothing at all...but maybe -- I'm hoping anyway -- that's all it takes...

Warning: This one shot features thoughts of depression, mention of and actions of suicide and/or suicidal thoughts. Viewer discretion advised.

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I found God on the corner of First in Amistad

Sara stood on the corner of the street, staring out into the traffic rushing by. All these people, going on with their lives, as if nothing had happened. As if the world hadn't just ended. As if one of the greatest people she had ever known hadn't just been lost.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, scowling as the light in the crosswalk switched to green. She didn't move though. Where would she go? What would she do? There was no point anymore. Nothing mattered, if she wasn't around. And no one cared. No one except for her.

Her hands were shaking inside her pockets. All she could see was red. Everyone said it would get better. That she'd move past it. That one day she'd move past the loss of Laurel. They told her to have faith in God, to believe He was watching over her now. It did nothing to console her. If anything it made it much worse, fueling her rage like gasoline.

Where the west was all but won
All alone
Smoking his last cigarette
I said where you been?
He said, ask anything

Where fuck was He when Laurel needed him before? How could she possibly believe in something that was so obviously not around?

Where were you
When everything was falling apart?

When Laurel fell into a deep depression, when she had all lost hope of ever recovering, when she turned to booze for comfort instead of her family, because she wasn't sure they'd actually care enough to help her through her issues, where was He then? When everything was falling apart, where was He? He wasn't anywhere to be seen. He wasn't around to help her. So, why the hell would he start now?

All my days
Spent by the telephone
That never rang

Three weeks ago...

Laurel had spent days, hours, months, years even, just waiting by the phone. All she had ever wanted was to feel loved, but no matter how she tried she just...couldn't. Everything she did, everything she said...She knew it annoyed them. And the worse she got, the more of a burden she became to her family. They said she wasn't, but she knew it was. She hated to bother them with her issues, but selfishly she longed for their attention. So, she waited for their calls...

And all I needed was a call
That never came
From the corner of First and Amistad

She waited for months, hoping someone might reach out. That they might see through her charade. But they never did. And maybe she waited too long, because it quickly became unbearable. People said to have faith in Him. That he had a plan. That it would get better. But it didn't. There was no plan. And there was no God. All she wanted was to end it, stop the suffering. Stop the pain.

Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?

She was lost. Insecure. And no one cared anyway. So why the hell should she keep living? There was no light at the end of this tunnel. Laurel drank until she couldn't see straight, until the world was swimming around her.

Then, she kept drinking. And kept drinking. Until she had finally drank herself to death.

She was surrounded by darkness. The light had completely been snuffed out. This was the only way out. The only escape.

Sara found her an hour later, lying on the floor. Her face was down in the rug. It had been years since they'd really spoken. She had assumed Laurel just wanted her space, but that night she had planned to march into her apartment and demand that she talk to her.

When Laurel didn't answer her after the third knock on her door, Sara started to get worried. She moved to the potted plant, where she knew her sister stashed a spare key.

As soon as she stepped inside, she screamed at what was waiting for her. Laurel lay there, a broken bottle of booze at her side.

Where were you, where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me

Sara fell to her knees, tears spilling from her eyes. "No," she muttered. "No...no!" She was too late. She found her...but she was too late... Why did she have to wait so long to reach out? Maybe if she had gotten her sooner, if she had called her a week earlier, this wouldn't have happened. She could have talked her out of it. She could have saved her. But she was too late... This was all her fault...

In the end
Everyone ends up alone

Sara spent the next three nights laying in bed. She didn't move. She didn't talk to anyone. It was all her fault. Her sister was dead because she left her alone. Because she didn't make sure she knew how much she mattered. Because Sara had let her rot.

Now, she shut everyone else out. She was alone, because that's what she deserved for being so distant. For leaving her sister, the most important person in her life, in the dark.

Losing her
The only one who's ever known
Who I am, who I'm not, and who I wanna be

Today....

Laurel was the one person Sara could tell everything to. She knew everything about her. Every flaw. Every good quality. She knew exactly who Sara was, everything that made her Sara. She knew when she wasn't acting like herself. And she knew who Sara wanted to be.

Looking back on it, maybe Sara didn't know Laurel as well as she knew her. Maybe she wasn't around for her sister the way she had been for her. Laurel had been drowning in shit, yet somehow she always came through for everyone else. For Sara. Maybe Sara had never really paid that much attention. Maybe she wasn't there the way she should have been.

That's why she was gone. Why she killed herself. No one cared enough. As long as they were fine they just assumed she was too. She wasn't. And now she was gone.

No way to know
How long she will be next to me

Meanwhile, Oliver stood in his room, frowning. He'd just lost a good friend. Someone he'd known all his life. Now, he worried he might lose another. Sara's grief had been weighing heavily on her. She was suffering from survivers' guilt, and she blamed herself for Laurel's death. He had lost sleep, worrying for her mental health. He couldn't lose another friend. But who knew how much longer Sara could hold on?

A phone call told him the answer. Oliver didn't much care for it. When he answered the call, Sara's voice rang out. It was hallow and broken.

"Ollie?"

"Sara?" he replied. "Hey, are you okay?"

She took a minute to respond. "No. I'm broken. And...I can't do this anymore. Not without her..."

"Sara, don't talk like that," Oliver said, heart pounding in his chest. "You are the strongest person I know. You can -"

"I didn't call so you could talk me out of it. I called to say goodbye."

"Sara!"

"Goodbye Ollie."

Then, she hung up. Oliver froze for a second, processing what Sara was saying. How could this be happening again?

"Shit!" Oliver cursed. He ran out of his room, grabbing his keys as he went; he hurried to the car, not even bothering to buckle up as he sped down the road.

Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?

Oliver arrived too late. The cycle had started all over again. He rushed into Sara's house, heart sinking.

She was in the bathroom, laying on her back. There was a pill bottle in her hands. Sara was seizing, foam forming at her mouth.

"Damn it!" Oliver panicked. He quickly turned her over on her side and called 911. But he already knew he was too late. She wouldn't survive.

Where were you, where were you?

Four weeks later, they had Sara's funeral. Sara's parents cried as they lowered the casket into the ground.  Oliver huffed. They acted like they cared, but where were they when their daughters had needed help? When they were crying out, begging to be saved?

Just a little late
You found me, you found me

It was too late. They couldn't take it back now. They didn't reach them in time.

Early morning
City breaks
I've been calling
For years and years and years and years

Five years later....

Oliver woke up, just as day broke. There was a knock on the door, and Oliver sighed. He trudged over to the door and opened it to see none other than Tommy Merlyn.

"Oliver it's been five years," Tommy said.

"I know."

"I've been calling."

"I know."

And you never left me no messages
You never send me no letters
You got some kind of nerve
Taking all I want

"You didn't return any of my calls," Tommy went on. "You didn't send me any messages. No texts. No calls. Not even the old fashioned letter!"

"Tommy, I know," Oliver sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm...working through some things."

"And I haven't been?" Tommy rolled his eyes. "They were my friends too, Oliver! But you just shut me out. We could have worked through it together. We could have been there for each other."

"They were more than friends," Oliver said quietly.

Tommy nodded slowly, letting his eyes fall onto the floor. He stared at the spot for a few seconds before responding. "I know," he said finally. "They were everything..."

Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Where were you? Where were you?

Oliver thought back to way Sara had found Laurel. They way she'd been laying on the floor. That beer bottle broken next her. The glass. The blood.

He thought of the way he had found Sara. The pills she'd taken. The foam in her mouth.

It wasn't right. They were both good people. Amazing people. And they were lost to the world, because no one cared enough to help them. Because they had become so lost, so insecure. And where were their parents while they suffered? Where were their friends? Where had Oliver been? And Tommy?

They'd let them die. They'd failed them.

I skipped the last few lines of the song, but I thought that was a good place to end.

This fic is really personal to me, and I really tried to do it well. I know these sort of things are really hard to write well. But it's a very serious topic for a lot of people, and I really wanted to do something people could relate to. I wanted to make this realistic and relatable...I hope I didn't fail too badly.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments.

And if you have thoughts like this just remember this: It is okay. Don't be ashamed. Don't think you're less than someone else for having these feelings. They are perfectly valid. You are perfectly valid.

Even if you know you're loved the feelings can still pop up. Depression is not an emotion. It is an illness. It doesn't just go away when something good happens. It's not a matter of being ungrateful. It is a matter of being sick.

You need time to heal and to get better, just like anyone else with any other illness. And that is valid.

Do whatever you have to do to get well. You deserve it, despite what your thoughts tell you. Despite what narcs and bullies say. You deserve to be well.

If no one is telling you this, I'm telling you now. You are valid. Don't let yourself forget. Say it. Out loud. Right now. You are valid. You matter. In the words of one of my best friends... Do not let life make you its bitch. You make life your bitch.