I had been depressed from the age of eight. Ever since my mum was murdered my mind was crushed. I had been so close to my mother, we had a mother and daughter bond that I thought and wished to never be broken. But it was taken away so quick I didn't know what hit me.
I didn't want to know about life anymore. Even though the killer was found- a desperate lowlife mug, I felt that justice was still unfulfilled. When her killer was sentenced to life and the feeling of more revenge remained in my head it was then my depression really sunk in. I became a quiet loner at school; I didn't even hold conversations with my grieving dad. I didn't see the point.
Nobody could bring my mum back and I just wanted her with me again. I remember sitting in a corner in my room, looking over her photos again and again, listening to rock music. Then at the age of nine I found out the joys of cutting myself. It worked; for a while. Physical pain was the only thing that occurred when I sliced my arms- the mental pain and things I was thinking always seemed to fade away in those moments.
I guess I became a Goth gradually, but it was unplanned. I used to be at least accepted in society before my mum was killed. Goths in the part of London I was brought up in was simply not allowed. No, I should not use the word allowed, it was thought of as horrifying. People around here thought and still think all Goths are evil and worship the devil and are a disgrace to society. I never ever worshipped the devil in my lifetime- I just never worshipped God either.
I'm still a Goth now; it's something that I never want to change. But I do want to change my depression. I feel I can, I mean I am certainly more happy then I was ten years ago when I was eight. It's all to do with one person. One person who has helped me so much... I will tell the story of what happened exactly a year before now.
Eighteenth birthday... I woke up early with a solemn face. It was a Saturday but I always woke up early on the weekends to do a morning run before everybody was out. I walked up steadily to my full length mirror, and looked at the reflection before me. I had forgotten to take off my black eye shadow and my hair was all over the place. I was in my baggy black pyjamas, the sleeves of my top going way past my wrists.
I gulped, my throat dry, as I think about looking at them. I decide to in a split second. I slowly roll up my lengthy sleeves, avoiding staring at the mirror just yet, rolling them up higher and higher until it was secure right at the top of my skinny arms, near my armpits. I held my arms out normally, with my elbows facing the ground and I progressively turned my arms around, looking into the mirror also. My fresh cuts had just about started the scabbing up phase, and my old scars remained in the background. It did look horrible I admitted as I focused into the wide mirror at the reflection of my flawed arms and wrists, but I couldn't help from inflicting these things on myself. I always made sure I wore something that covered these fuckers anyway. I turned the sleeves back down again and proceeded to get ready with my run.
The runs I went to every weekend were easy, even though I went quite a distance. Even though I started to sweat and the front of my hair grew damp during that run in the morning on my birthday. I don't know why, but because I knew I had a bit of loose change in my trouser pocket, I jogged all the way into a small café instead going further down the street and cutting a park that leaded straight back to my house. I stepped inside the café, looking around briefly, noticing a place at the back of the room I'd probably take gratitude into sitting. I walked up to the counter.
"What would you like, young one?" the stubby man behind the counter asked.
"Um... I suppose I'd have a coffee?" I questioned. I didn't know why I was doing what I did. I never liked to ask a question or start a conversation unless it was necessary, and it wasn't necessary for me to go into a café and get a coffee.
"One coffee comin' up!" he exclaimed joyfully, without delay proceeding my request.
I went to the back of the room, and to the table I anticipated in sitting when I first came into the café. I sat round the two seated table and relaxed. My neck felt tense. I used my hands to massage my neck, looking downwards.
Not so long after a hand came into view, placing a coffee on my table. The hand was very shapely and tanned I noticed. I slowly raised my head up to see who had invaded my territory (because by then I was certain it couldn't have been the man behind the counter) and I almost fell off my chair.
What was it that made me besotted in him at first sight? Was it the floppiness of his shiny brown hair that was slightly ruffled? Was it the oval of his beady green sexy eyes? Was it his nose, that was so slender yet masculine, or his lips, so faultless and dying to be kissed? Or his strong set jaw that just made his face look so much more perfect?
I think it was all of those things, and many more that just made me want to faint at the first sight of him.
"My father said to bring over your coffee," he explained, holding his arm to his side again. He was wearing a cooking apron over the blue t shirt and jeans that fitted him nicely.
"T-thanks," I stuttered, feeling so silly. I knew I was blushing a little. I wanted him to go in case I really started to embarrass myself but instead he reluctantly sat around the table with me.
"You went out for a jog?" he asked, motioning towards my faintly damp hair and sports clothes.
"Umm... Yeah," I replied, sipping some coffee, because my throat was dry. I felt my belly tingling and by then I was really had gotten wet down there. It was a truly remarkable feeling. His eyes never went from mine. It made me feel weary and confused. Was he interested in me? I mean he was a guy to die for and he looked like he was in his early twenties, he must have a girlfriend already.
"I've never seen you around here before," he said, grinning. "You're really cute so if I had done I would remember."
I coughed. Cute? Really?
"Thanks," I said in disbelief.
"Your eyes are wonderful," he said, peering into them. I felt so good when he was making these complements but I was uncertain if he meant it.
"So are yours," I said. My knickers were most probably damp by now.
"So striking and blue... baby blue..." he said as if he was dazed. I didn't know I could have this much effect on a boy.
"Hey, fancy meeting me later?" he asked with a sparkle in his
oh- so-wonderful eyes.
I was in a trance myself. I was willing to do anything with the handsome stranger sat right in front of me.
"Yeah, sure," I found my mouth blubber out.
"Great," he said happily, flashing two rows of straight white teeth.
"... I don't even know your name," I said dreamily.
"The name is Zack. And yours is?"
