Support

"He needs help. We can't put this off any longer. Do you want him to die?"

"He could drop dead any second. I really don't want to see my best friend lying cold in front of me. I'd have nightmares for years." That's right, Spencer. Make it into a joke. This isn't funny, asshole.

"But what can we do? The poor guy is in denial and won't admit to his problem."

"We can fix him. Save his life." The sound of my voice scared me a little. I think it scared Jon and Spencer as well. All throughout out this meeting, I haven't spoken a word and I didn't really plan too.

I love Brendon with all my heart but this is to much deja vu for me. Only a year ago, Spencer had this same conversation with me- about me.

Jon threw down a little white pamphlet. I knew what it meant and I knew Jon remembered just as much as I did. He looked up with an all knowing smile but then quickly turned his attention to Spencer's question.

"Do you carry support group packets with you everywhere? Maybe we need to send you there instead of Brendon. I think you've got some major issues, kid." Once again, you make a joke. Thanks for trying to lighten the mood but you are failing miserably. Oh Spencer, you have no idea how much I want to reach out and strangle you. So much anger. I could kill right now. My god, I'm feeling so homicidal today.

"No, I just had this one lying around." Jon took another quick glance at me then returned again. "It's for a local support group. I've heard they do wonders. If we could just get Brendon to go, maybe we could save him." Save him, love him, help him. I will do anything to accomplish any of those. I can't lose the one man who stayed by me in all my mood swings and violent outrages.

He was only one who ever really gave me a chance. I owe him everything. I've never wanted anything more than to help him. I'd even give up writing music for him.

Spencer and Jon got up to leave; before Jon left, however, he came across the table and sat next to me. He slowly turned to face me and whispered something quiet in my ear; "I haven't forgotten about you. I never will." There goes my chance. Thank you Jon. Ruin everything. Kill my dreams of being the best.

"Yes, Ryan. I know you still take those pills like clockwork. One every six hours. It's not right. And I know you don't take your medication. I know everything. This is as much about you as it is Brendon." Crying. I need to cry. Oh boy, how I want to die. "No, I haven't forgotten, and no I won't let it go."

He got up and left me sitting there seconds away from tears.

How could he know? I was so careful. So fucking careful not to let anyone see the empty weight loss pills. So careful not to let anyone seem me dump out the Bipolar medication. So fucking careful. I tried to keep every emotion within my mind and seem under control. I tried to keep everything in the grey. I let it slip into the white sometimes and even a little black. I never let it fly back and fourth though. Never. Too fucking careful.

How did he do it? That traitor. I'm not harming anyone like Brendon is harming us. I'm not bones like Brendon. I'm fat and all I wish to do is be the best. There isn't a thing called perfection but that doesn't mean there isn't a best. And I'm going to be it. All for them.

Depression.

Darkness appeared everywhere. Not an ounce of light showing. Mind racing and heart pumping thoughts crossed my mind back and forth. Nothing was still.

Black everywhere. I need to die. I need to be free. I need out.

Rage.

I thrashed about the room and trashed everything in sight. Glass broken, table flipped. Nothing was left untouched but myself. Of course, that won't last. I never last that long.

It's a cycle that never breaks.

Destroy the glass. Break the table. Burn the photos. Empty myself of air.

Emptiness.

In a slow fluid movement, my hands crawled up my neck and to my throat. My mind and body stayed calm for a moment, knowing what will come next.

My fingers slowly squeezed my throat, causing my head to feel light.

Staying calm is always easiest during this activity. It's happened so many times, panic doesn't even try to creep up on me. I like to hurt. My body likes to hurt. I feel human. I feel as close to the best I can get. As close to the perfect being for Brendon.

I do it all for him.

----

“You’re starving yourself, and it’s killing you. You’re sick. You need help.” I'm only saying this because I love him. I fucking love him.

And because I want his mind off of me and what happened earlier today. I don't want him to remember how he found me. I don't want him in any pain. After all, people do incredible things for the people they love; want; and need.

Girls throw up.
Boys lie.
I hide and keep everything inside.
It's all for him.

I will be happy if it makes him happy. I will be sad if it makes him happy. I will be angry if it makes him happy. I'll do anything to lift my lover's soul up.

“There’s no such thing as perfection.” How absurd. There is no perfection. Only being the best. There is a very visible difference. When will that damn boy learn.

“There is,” My beauty paused for a moment before continuing, “and I’ll achieve it. Someday.”
There isn't; and if there was, you would be it already. It is me who isn't good enough.

You have the beautiful voice, the angelic looks, and the musical talent everyone lusts for.

I am just Ryan Ross. That ugly boy who writes the strange crappy lyrics that makes all the teens cry out in woe of their terrible lives. I'm just a tiny human compared to the angel I rest my head on every night.

"I'll make you a deal, lover-kid. I-I-I'll go to this support group thing. I'll g-go with you. Please go to it." Sobs racked inside his chest. I could feel them. Now I am the worst person. I just took four steps back from the best for him. I am now the worst. I will always be the worst thing for him.

"Promise me or it's a no go. Promise me. An-and, promise me that you'll really get help." I don't need any help.

"Of course." I kissed him on the lips before returning to my place staring at the stars.