I Wish I Could Float Away.

I've always wondered how Sierra has managed to put up with me for all these years, why she hasn't given up on me like the others, why she hasn't sent me to a mental institution to get 'fixed'. We've been friends since high school, we've been pretty close, until recently, I just don't understand why she isn't giving up. Any sane person would have realized that they can't help me alone, and sent me away by now. Ever since high school this girl has had to look after me, dealt with my bullshit. I would have given up on me a long time ago; I already have.

I'm a useless friend. I know she has her own life, I know I can't always rely on her, but I can't stop myself anymore. She may not be there when I need her, but she can always help pick up the pieces. I just feel guilty, I feel sorry for Tay, I may not like the 20 year old, but I feel like I'm taking Sierra from her, Sierras life is becoming fucked up, because of me.

Sierra is perky this morning, even after yesterdays events, and sleeping in a cramped, dirty, and blood stained bed, with me. I may be thin and lanky, but it is still cramped underneath the covers with another person, slim or not. My bony frame doesn't help either. I don't feel guilt this morning toward Tay however, I needed Sierra, and she knew it. She knew she had to stay.

As Sierra pulled me from the covers, I realized how lucky I was to have a friend like her. Most people didn't have a person who they could rely on to help sort out their life these days, where as I had Sierra. I can't describe how much of a help she is. She is my rock, she keeps me a little bit saner, she's kept me alive.

After being forced from my bed many times, I ended up taking a long shower, trying to relax a bit but my body wouldn't cooperate, ending up in me becoming more distressed than before I entered the shower. Sierra wouldn't let me out of the bathroom until she was convinced I was clean, so brush my teeth and she let me free from the make-shift prison. I instantly retreat to my bed again, curling into the corner, wanting to sleep more.

"Alex," I heard her whine, but I just moaned in response, I wanted to stay there, preferably forever, "c'mon, 'Lex, you have work, and so do I. I can't let you stay here alone, not after last night, I can't trust you," she moved around my room as she spoke, picking up dirty items of clothing that needed washing, before concluding with "you're just like a teenager 'Lex, just more hormonal,"

"Fuck off Si, I'm not hormonal," I snapped, burying my head in my hands, "just leave me alone," I mumbled, but I knew she wouldn't. I was right, she just huffed at pulled the sheets off my bed and stalked into the kitchen, leaving me alone in my bedroom. I loved the silence that I bathed in, I started to feel more relaxed, my muscles easing slightly but they were always tense these days. I was always on guard.

I sound like I want to fight everyone who talks to me - I don't, I just feel better when I'm on guard, I feel safe. But not necessarily from myself.

The calming silence was broken by the sound of cluttering from the kitchen, pots being placed on the stove, I could imagine Sierra scurrying around like a squirrel, sorting out her first meal of the day. A few minutes later I heard my name being called, and I responded with a loud "what?" After I received no response from the other, I reluctantly moved from the comfort of my bed and into the corridor. I hadn't moved in the corridor in a few days, it felt weird.

I sighed as I walked out into the kitchen, only wearing boxers. I usually only wore boxers around my apartment these days, I felt no need to wear anything more, as no one visited me. The only downside was that my scars were visible, clear for anyone to see. They made me feel sick just from looking a them, I hated how I could do this to myself so easily, how addicted to the pain I had become, but then again, I hated everything about myself. Sierra hated seeing my body, too. She would always say how skinny I was, or point out that my scars were growing in numbers all over my body.

"You hungry?" She inquired, and motioned to the table. A small stack of pancakes were piled in the center of the table, and I felt my stomach turn, writhing inside of me, already declining the food. I looked at her, and her bright smile faded, knowing her hard work had been wasted. "'Lex, please have one," she said as she moved over toward me, taking my hand. She tugged my arm gently and I cooperated with her, moving to the table, and I sat down, looking at the empty plate, hoping it would stay empty.

I managed to force three, dry, tasteless pancakes into my mouth, and successfully swallow them, before my body decided to respond negatively, my gut felt like it had decided to implode on itself, it hurt so much. I couldn't eat anymore, but I could see in Sierras face that she was proud of me for eating at least something, and she ended up hugging me, and kissing my cheek softly as she cleared away the plates, letting us both sit in a comfortable silence.

The gentle kiss had given me a strand of hope that maybe Sierra did care still, that she wasn't just hiding behind a fatigue. She probably hated me really, loathed me due to the fact I was stopping her live her life. No, Sierra wasn't like that, no. She'd never leave me, she'd never fake anything - this is Sierra we're talking about. She has no sense of boundaries, what so ever. She would say anything that came to her mind, she as never quiet. I wish I was more like her; I was cautious and guarded, I always have been, but since my manic depression got worse, so did trying to get though to me. I rejected everything, I've only felt like I could trust Sierra these days. Everyone is out to get me.

I eventually retreated to my room once more, avoiding my bed, and I managed to pull on my uniform without looking at my body. Once I was dressed, I met Sierra at the door, and we left to go to work. I refused a lift from Sierra, as I would be early for work, and I didn't really want to talk to anyone, especially Matt, the assistant manager, or his boyfriend, who always seemed to be hanging around. Besides, the Starbucks I worked at was only a few blocks away, and I needed time to think.

I walked slow, slower than I should have, probably, but I couldn't help but think about Thomas, mother, father, they had all left me in the end, and I was alone. I've always felt alone since Thomas died, he was my brother, of course I was going to be upset, but I felt anger, and not the normal anger people feel toward someones suicide. My anger wasn't out of the fact he hadn't called for help, it was the fact he hadn't responded to my call for help. Since then, I've never asked for it, and this is how I ended up where I am. Alone.

I'm not going to try and make it sound as bad as I can, but with the death of my brother, it honestly felt like someone had decided to take my heart and just crush it, leave it so it would never be fixed. I couldn't understand how it had been kept beating for so long, I'm just a coward for not being able to end my life. I could hear Sierras voice echo in my head, "'Lex, I'm gonna help you get better, okay? Thomas, he's gone now, but you're still here; you're strong enough to live, so live it with me," her soft, soothing voice whispered. I couldn't help but snort at it, strong. Like fuck I was, if I was strong, I wouldn't feel this way, I wouldn't resent anyone who was happy, in fact, I'd probably be happy, I'd be happy with my family.

I clenched my fists in to balls, my family aren't here anymore, they don't care about me enough to have stayed and helped me get through this. I fucking hated them. I didn't realize that I had started to painfully stomp my feet as I walked faster past people, barging my way through the crowd of people occupying the sidewalk.

I stormed in to the Starbucks, a wall of warm air hitting my body suddenly. I glared over at the counter, not bothering to see if anyone was looking at me, I just wanted to get to work, and go home as soon as possible. I hated work, I always ended up the same as always, grumpy and snappy, even at the customers. On good days, I might give a fake smile, but today wasn't one of those days, and I could tell my co-workers knew that already from my rude entrance.

I made my way over to the counter, before sliding past it and into the back room where most people stayed during their breaks. I started to pull my jacket off when I caught glimpse of someone walking around the corner, scarily graceful with their movements.

Oh fuck. Not Danny.

Okay, maybe I hated Danny a little lot, but I have good reason to. He was just so happy all the time, and he was very very camp. And gay, that was obvious too. I'm gay, too, but he just made it a joke, honestly. It was just so aggravating how optimistic was, I know he wouldn't feel this way if he had lost his brother to suicide, let a lone in my circumstances. At least he was honest, one of the few things I liked about the boy. I tensed up and turned my back to the approaching boy, hearing a surprisingly shrill "Alex!" call behind me, he wasn't masculine at all, was he? Sierra would love this dude.

"Danny," I responded as bluntly as I could, trying to show that I was annoyed with him, but he didn't notice, he just hugged me, and I just stood there, awkwardly, hoping he would let me go soon. He did but forced my body to turn in his direction, and he looked at me with that huge smile, that huge smile that I wanted to punch off of his face.

"I'm happy you're here," he started, and I panicked slightly, did he think I was going to commit suicide? He did, oh God, he knew. He has noticed my scars hasn't he? He's noticed- "I need your help picking out an outfit," I sighed with relief, earning a confused look from Danny, but he shrugged it off as I turned away from him.

"Get Zack, he'll help. I'm not god at anything, so I don't see why you're asking me," I replied, starting to walk away with a shrug, trying to make as much noise as I walked, as if to ward away Danny, but he came back, and clutched my hand, "Danny, fuck off, I'm not helping," I snapped suddenly, pushing the older man away, and I saw hurt flood into his eyes, forming into tears, but he held them back. Fuck, did he really get hurt that easily? Well, he deserves it.

"You're not useless," Danny whispered before he walked away awkwardly, probably to find Matt. I just shrugged what he said off and went to work. It meant nothing to him, so it meant nothing to me.

---

"Alex?" I hummed in response to the call of my name from across the floor, and I looked up to see a wary Zack. He beckoned me over silently, and I groaned, before sluggishly dragging my feet along the floor. I didn't mind Zack, he was okay, but he was just another person who was concerned for me, and I knew he was going to say something along the lines of- "are you okay?" yep, I was right, he called me over for nothing, and I glared at him, daring him to speak again, and he did, stuttering the words, "i-i heard ab-about what happened with D-danny in the backro-om and I just wanted to see if you're- you're okay," I just continued to glare at him, and I could see fear dance in his eyes, was he really scared of me? Probably, I tried to intimidate the boy so that he would leave me alone, but he wouldn't. He was just so worried about me all the time, and I didn't know why.

"And that is the latest gossip going around?" I questioned, trying not to snap at the younger boy, but it had become a habit to talk to the boy in the tone. I moved so that my arm was supporting my weight on the counter, thankful that it wasn't rush hour, if it was, Matt would be ushering me to serve the customers instead of giving a harsh look at Zack. I loved to see him squirm under my glare, "I'm fine, now leave me the fuck alone. I don't need rats like you pestering me about my personal life," I hissed, and I saw a mix of hurt and fear flash onto Zacks timid face as he muttered a quick apology to me, scurrying away as fast as he could to prepare for our next customer.

This was already going to be a long day, and it wasn't past lunch time yet.

Great fuck.