Raw Survival | Sehun
Raw Survival
Sehun ; pg (mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression) ; 584 words ; drabble
Sehun taught himself to not feel anymore.
The razor edges were sharp and raw. It glinted under the fluorescent light of the bathroom, reeling Sehun in, enticing him to pick it up. Although it was but only a small weapon, it could do so many things., he thought. Beautiful, yet deadly. He picked up the razor, finger running over the smooth blade. There was a pinprick of pain, but he did not remove his finger. He pressed harder, applying more pressure, the blade cutting further into the dry skin. What had been just a drop a blood turned into a steady trickle, and it ran down into pristine white sink.
Finally, he allowed his finger to leave the blade. The blood continued to dribble out of the red cut for a while so he squeezed his finger, allowing the blood to flow freely, until it stopped and formed droplets instead.
He felt no pain, none at all. His heart thudded out a dull, steady beat. A slow drone. Nothing.
The many slashes on his inner arms were but terrible reminders of the things he used to do with a blade like that. But he knew better now.
He gazed into the startling mirror in front of him, harsh breaths misting up the glass. His head fell as he fought back his tears. His feelings in general.
So many people had it so much worse than he did. They had a reason to feel desperate, to feel depressed, to feel everything that he was feeling. That he should not feel because he wasn't like them. His problems wasn't like theirs, his life wasn't like theirs. He was different, a better different maybe. Or worse, he didn't know.
Thus he trained himself to not feel. There was not a single shred of happiness, anger or sadness. No love because there wasn't any present. Except for that empty desolation in his heart because he was missing something. A something called life. Life which he had thrown away, broken as if crushed under wheels of a car. Like Humpty Dumpty, he could not put it back together again. Not even with all the help he could get.
An emotionless being. He lived like that daily.
There were days when he did feel. No matter how hard he tried to lock away the pain and hopelessness, they always escaped his Pandora's Box. Those were the times when he would wish he was brave enough to press that blade. To hold it there, cutting into dry skin and to not lift his hand away. To never stop. Not until he felt his life draining and the lights fading as a small razor took his breath away.
But he wasn't brave. He never had been. That was why he had built his own coping mechanism. He blocked himself out, walled himself in. Delving into an emotionless, empty state. Even as everything around him crumbled, he simply did not allow himself to feel.
If he did feel, everything would hurt so much more. By not feeling, he could imagine that he was living a dream. A horrible, endless dream perhaps. But a dream nonetheless. One that he could maybe wake from one day.
It was an impossible hope he clung onto. But he clung on anyway because he did not dare to fall.
Once again, the sharp blade of the razor shone, reflecting the light and enticing him. Sehun looked away and stumbled out of the bathroom.
No. It was not his turn.
For he did not deserve to die.
a/n: i wrote this a week ago while i was in a really bad mood. i think it's pretty obvious what i was feeling then so i shall not elaborate. hope you enjoyed the angst :3
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