Where shall I begin?

Kai messaging me a gazillion times to make sure I was alive or Kassy knocking on my bedroom door to make sure I wasn't dead?

I should begin with Kassy because she is standing in front of me.

"What was all the fuss about?" She crossed her arms but waited for my cue to sit on my bed. When it comes to mannerism, Kassy could have made a Victorian woman blush in indecency.

I asked her to sit because standing Kassy stood right on my nerves.

It was difficult for me to get out of my room for a couple of days. I so close, so close to this one thing that would have made me come to terms with all my failures, but I failed in that too.

I didn't want to kill myself in my room, each and everything would trigger the fear of not being enough in me. It'll also kick in the Kal who thought suicide was a way for cowards to escape hardships and problems in life. They just couldn't face it, such lazy and wimp they were.

Now I realise, they are the bravest people you'll ever know.

You would never take your life. Sure, you'll think about it, but the repercussions would pull you back. Your family will pull you back. The worst thing in the world for a parent is to see their child dying before they did. You know your parents haven't done anything like that to deserve your death.

Things get complicated for a guy like me, ambition was the only thing I was made of. To soar high, to see myself in the eyes of people who envy your success. To be the star of the motivation videos like Jack Ma is now. To be celebrated and discussed for your shining achievements you were as badges like a brigadier.

To die was essentially killing that person who imagined to be a diamond in the coal mine. It's not easy to kill him, he imagined you to be things your current self could hardly process. How can you make an optimist see the glass is entirely empty when he considers it's full of air of hard work and perseverance?

Had I been an average child from the beginning, the optimist, the dreamer in me would not have existed. Accepting my fate would have been easier, moving on to venture into a new path would have been easier. Dealing with failure and taking it as a lesson to be grateful for would have been easier.

How can you make a person eat the bitter pill when all he has tasted was the honey?

Just imagining failure would make me work harder. Just imagining someone is better than me would make me outshine them. I had heard that one of my classmates had learnt the periodic table up to krypton. The next day element 104 was on the tip of my tongue, with its molecular mass. Once someone had answered that Portugal's capital is Lisbon, the next day, the teacher had to refer to the atlas to make sure I truly knew all the 195 capitals or not. Once, a student learnt how to find the root of a number orally. Next day, I told what 345+476+841+630 was faster than the calculator.

How can you expect a kid like this to make peace with the fact that he won't be alive to see the future? How can you make the kid realise that the plans he made about the ski trip or the interviews he pretended to have in his bedroom would never be realised? How can you make that kid understand that a grown-up version of him would kill the younger self because of the mistakes the grown-up made?

I had drowned in the pit of self-doubt. Even though I thoroughly enjoyed the company of people who were still under the impression that I am invincible, I subtly sought validation.

I would vent to online friends about how I am not good enough and I have a proof for it. I knew this would make them bring proof that I am not as bad as I talk to be. A thousand cheers of appraisal can't shun the siren of self-deprecation. It was almost maddening. I stopped doing anything even before I gave it a try, thinking I am not good, thinking my friends would judge me based on it and would stop talking to me. It was difficult for me to detach my art from who I am and would take even a minor criticism to heart.

If I would send a sketch I made to an online friend and would receive a lukewarm response, I wouldn't think that it's because they don't necessarily praise in heaps and bounds. I would always think that it's because my work is bad and they don't want to ruin our friendship.

I would delete my artwork I would post on deviant art as soon as any friend I know personally would share it. My go-to excuse would be to finish it, but all of them knew how insecure I am about what I do.

It isn't the case with strangers though. As bizarre as it sounds, I don't worry about my first impression when it comes to strangers. If you like my work, great! If you don't like my work, I pity your taste.

When these strangers cut the ties with memes and hearty conversations, this is when my anxiety shows its true colours, by not showing them the colours of my sketches at all.

No, no amount of reassurance can cure the tumour in my lungs that makes it difficult to breathe the air of confidence. Mind you, this comes from a person who would say the answer given by him is right because it's given by him.

I did watch a lot of motivation videos but they were counterproductive. I ended up feeling that I'd never achieve anything by the time I am their age. Or that they were at the top tier even in adverse situations, then I am a nobody in front of them.

Some would advise me to remember my last achievements and gain confidence. Honestly, this advice is the worst, worse than saying to not take stress or just relax to a clinically diagnosed depressed person. It's like telling me to be ashamed of the fact that I can't even do the things I used to pass in flying colours. Those so-called well-wishers have no idea how empty and pathetic it feels to start to lose confidence in the one thing you did better than others. Now, the people who would come to take advice from you would wonder why that advice isn't working for you.

You can give me the most amazing TedTalk about being confident and surrounding yourself with people who love your work but you'll find me the same eight months later. Same anxiety, same work, different day, a different person to rant to.

It's almost like I enjoy being in pain? I enjoy feeling down and disgusted with my own existence and the work I put up and the stress I go through and the effort I put in? I don't know, I didn't want to enjoy it, I wanted to help myself, but I couldn't, I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

Only Kassy could ground me. She always tried.

"Nothing, I just wanted you to tell me things, but now I realised, I wasn't asking you shit," I told her.

"It's okay, " she crawls up to sit right next to me, tugging me from the side, " I didn't tell you half of the things either."

"We shouldn't be fighting, we legit have no one else–"

"No, it doesn't matter if we resolve shit after we fight."

Kassy took the pillow, I assumed she would put it behind her back but–

"I saw that coming!" I held her wrist before she could hit me with the pillow. I smacked her forehead instead.

"Ouch!" She rubbed her temples, forcing a pout but ended up laughing instead.

"Now get out of this shitty room of yours and help me do the chores. I have been washing all the dishes for two days!"

"Mum didn't ask me to do anything." I smiled playfully at her.

"Because you're the daughter she never had!" Kassy acted her melodrama in the most pretentious manner possible, it was the only manner to lighten up her problems. Deep down, I knew she was bothered by the subtle differences we face in the way we're treated.

Don't get me wrong, our parents don't exactly do so because she is a girl. She was adored when she was young. Then middle school happened and that person who makes you or breaks you came into her life.

It's tragic that he did both.

He made her who she was now, smart, independent and who doesn't care about others opinion on the exterior. He almost broke her future, had she not decided to let our parents pull her out of the hell hole.

She wasn't ready to change the lifestyle she embraced with open arms.

Both of us knew why.

The people she surrounds herself with don't judge.

She can't handle mum's judgement though.

"Do you like Alex?" I tried to change the topic, letting her know that I don't mind her relationships as long as they are not toxic.

"Alex is not a bad person, he's just all over the place." She sighed and averted her glance. She didn't do it on purpose, it felt like she was expecting something.

"It's okay, I won't tell mum and dada. But I don't think he'd hurt you."

"No, " Kassy faced me, letting a weak smile hide her true feelings, "I'll end up hurting me. I just trust people easily, more than it's healthy–"

Both of us were interrupted by my phone ringing on the table. I rose to pick it up but wasn't surprised to see Elikai calling me. It's been the 15th time since the last time we met and he can't spend an hour without checking in with me.

"Yes, I am alive, I didn't do anything."

Where are you now?

Kassy rose to leave the room and mouthed me that she'll talk to me later. As I said, her manners wouldn't let her intrude into conversations. Her respect for privacy was something Facebook should have taken notes on.

"I am in my room; I was talking to Kassy."

Did I interrupt you?

"Well, if calling at least 20 times isn't counted as an interruption then I don't think so."

Don't drag me. I am just making sure you're hanging right. At least having me on your head would make you feel guilty–

"El, I have enough reasons to feel guilty, yet I was there–"

Don't say.

I could sense him flinching at anything that suggested death. I ensured not to bring it in any way.

"You're the one who started it."

And yeah, I don't trust you. Come to my place.

I sprung on my bed, then turned around to face the ceiling. This boy was going out of hand. It's 7 pm, he surely doesn't want me to have a sleepover at his place.

"Give me a good reason."

I am sick. He spoke too soon and coughed sooner than he should have, which made me roll my eyes.

"Then have some meds."

I don't have them.

"Ask your parents."

They have gone to meet their friends. Earlene and I are the only ones in here.

I knew he would coerce me to get to his place. He was great at making people do what he wanted, it was mostly because of his tenacity than actual manipulation that he knew. In reality, he was not a penny less than a pushover.

"Then call Alex."

He is busy with his brother. He has to train him to beat your cousins, right?

Had he been in front of me, his smirk would have been a comical sight to behold. Right now, he was more of a pain in the ass.

"I'll come. Text me your exact location."

~~~
Word count: 2048

A/N

This update almost didn't happen today. I am going through this really bad cycle of self-doubt and fear of abandonment(as if you couldn't tell after reading this chapter lmao). I had to push myself. It's the only daunting task, writing isn't. Because trashcans produce trash anyway.

Hope you enjoyed reading it!