Is This Considered - Tumblr Posts
Depression and the arts
[Description: A three panel cartoon of me sitting in front of my cintiq, working myself up to draw, because ‘nothing changes is you stop trying.’]
Fog licked at the edges of the bridge, curling around the street lamps and up into the stars. It was cold, bitterly in a way that sliced to the bone. She shivered, tucking her coat around her.
The street was as silent as a tomb, nothing more than wet concrete and wind, and she could be at home right now. She probably should be, at least. At home, her cat was probably waiting for her in warm bed sheets.
Here, though, secrets might be waiting.
And oh, how she loved secrets.
The suicides weren't anything special- every city has them. She had dealt with her fair share.
But this? This was strange. One person jumps off a bridge, and it's a tragedy. Two, it's awful.
And three? That's a pattern.
The wind picked up, howling as it tore through her hair. Ten minutes. Ten more and she would leave. It was edging towards two in the morning, and from what little the autopsies could gather, that was the latest time of death.
Five minutes.
Eight.
Nine.
She pushed off the edge of the bridge, turning—and froze.
"Hi," the little girl smiled, all teeth. She had ribbons in her hair.
"Hi." It was more out of reflex than anything. She glanced up, and found no parent, no guardian. Just empty street.
"Are you out here all alone?"
"No," the girl replied drily. "You're here too."
She paused. "Right. Your parents-"
"Are dead," the girl blinked, and smiled softly. "Yours are too."
Her throat went dry. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"That your parents are dead," the girl repeated.
She didn't have a response to that, and she was trained in crisis management. Her chest squeezed like a vise, tighter,tighter still.
The girl seemed to know.
"You want to know," the girl observed, eyeing her. Her eyes drifted over the edge, the water deep and churning.
Deep and dark and deadly.
"Yes," she admitted.
The girl's smile disappeared.
"I wish you didn't."
The wind had vanished.
She studied the girl, in her perfect dress and braided hair.
"You know, don't you."
The girl tipped her head one way, then the other.
"Yes. But then again I know a lot of things. So in the scheme of it, it isn't important to me."
"People are dying," her voice went sharp. She regretted it as soon as the girl’s eyes snapped to hers.
"Everyone dies."
"Not like this," she said, and the girl shrugged one shoulder.
"Death is death in every form." She turned her gaze to the water. “The method reaches the same result."
"Where are your parents?"
"I lied," the girl said bluntly. "Earlier, when I said they were dead. They don't exist. Not really, at least. Belief systems are so strange sometimes-"
"Stop."
The girl did, patiently.
"You see the people who die here?"
"Of course I do," the girl said it like it was obvious.
"And?"
"And what?"
"Why?"
"Why do they die?"
The girl twirled one long strand of hair around her finger, face the picture of child innocence.
"Because they jump, silly."
"And why do they jump?"
The world went silent. The girls face dropped. Something infinitesimal slammed onto her back, the weight of a star itself, the air like thick syrup.
"I can show you," the girl took a step forward. The strand of hair dropped. "If you like."
She swallowed, throat dry. "I do," she rasped.
"You don't," the girl corrected, but she stepped forward anyways.
"They always do this," she murmured, and she was almost certain it wasn't directed at her.
Her small hand landed her forehead, and she was gone.
The vicious bite of loss, the cry of a child, the smell of burnt toast. Abandoned buildings and car filled highways. And empty tombstone, barren elementary school chairs.
It roared through her head like a newly released dam and she was almost certain she was crying, that tiny palm set so firmly on her forehead.
She sat on the edge of the bridge, feet dangling. The girl sat with her, legs kicking in the air as she hummed.
She choked on a sob, cheeks wet.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
She merely nodded, throat closed.
The girl took her hand, fingers tiny and warm.
“You’re okay,” the girl soothed, but she didn’t believe her.
The water beckoned.
“What’s your name,” she managed, and the girl smiled, just barely. She released her hand.
“Say hi to my brother for me.”
“I thought your family didn’t exist.”
“My parents don’t,” the girl agreed. “My siblings and I kind of do.”
“Ah,” she laughed, and it was wet. “Makes perfect sense.”
The girl’s mouth twitched.
“Truth.”
The puzzle pieces clicked into place. The girl’s name. Truth.
Her sister was going to have to take care of her cat from now on.
“That’s why,” she said dully. “It’s you.”
“I don’t give them anything they don’t ask for. It’s not my fault most of them don’t realize they never want what they think they do.”
She watched the water undulate for a moment.
“What’s your brother’s name.”
The girl’s smile turned into something wide, child-like joy.
“Death.”
She laughed then, and it rang out over the water. The girl still smiled.
“Truth hurts,” she murmured. The girl nodded.
“Truth hurts.”
Her fingers slackened on the edge of the bridge and she finally, finally let herself fall.
Truth stayed behind, image wavering above her as the waves swallowed her whole.
For a moment she wondered who would find the little girl next. Who would be bestowed that knowledge. Who would feel that pain.
Who would get to meet her brother, afterwards.
She supposed it didn’t matter, after all.
Everyone meets them both at some point.
Truth hurts, indeed.
The dark swallowed her whole.