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Title: I Do Not Want This
Author: Lizzie
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: I�m guessing it�d be safe to say R.
Content: Angst, I guess. And mention of self-injury, kinda attempted suicide, implied m/m.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, and unless I wake up one morning having mysteriously become Vince McMahon, I doubt they ever will be. Damn, that's a scary thought.
Distribution: Not that you're likely to want it, but if you do, just tell me where.
Summary: You�ll be able to work out who they are, I hope. And for once this isn�t Raven and Stevie. Let�s just say it�s a pairing I�ve never done before.
Notes: I�ve been listening to Nine Inch Nails all day. This is the result.

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I Do Not Want This
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I�m so cold. Sometimes it�s like it�s all I can feel. I�m cold inside and out. It�s like dying inside and watching it all happen from outside myself.

Have you ever had a moment when you looked into the mirror and didn�t quite recognise yourself in the reflection? Have you ever looked down at your hands, touched your face, and felt like it�s not really you? It�s like you�re not the person you were anymore and you never even realised it. It�s like a numbness all over, a numbness that stops you connecting with your body, with this flesh you don�t even recognise is you, a numbness that�s in you right down to your soul.

Have you ever felt that? Have you ever heard your voice like it�s not you talking, walked down a street like it�s not you walking, lain awake at night wondering if you�re even really there anymore or if you�re really some dulled-down, pale imitation of yourself? Have you ever wondered if this is really you or if maybe you don�t quite belong in this body because something just doesn�t seem right?

You see, that�s how I feel all the time.

I don�t know if you�re call me jaded. I don�t think I would. I think I�ve just changed without realised and now I�m looking at myself and not seeing what I thought I�d see. But I�m exactly the same. Same blonde hair, same blue eyes, same face, same hands � but they don�t feel like they�re mine. I know they are. It�s like I�m twisting someone else�s hair around my fingers, like someone else�s fingers are twisting up my hair. My heartbeat doesn�t feel like my own. There�s nothing about me that I know.

I make a fist and the tension doesn�t seem real. Nothing seems real. I look around and see my things, I see my life and everything that�s in it, but it�s like everything�s a million miles away, sitting behind misted glass in a display cabinet that I can�t touch. Except I can touch, only when I do it�s like they�re not my things anymore. They�re just objects. I know they should mean something to me but they don�t.

Except maybe I�m wrong. Maybe I�m not out of touch. Maybe I�m not numb. Because it�s not really like seeing through glass when I think about it � it�s like a screen�s been lifted and I�m really seeing everything for the very first time. Everything�s so clear. I�m not me. I don�t matter. The objects around me don�t matter either. Everything around me is inconsequential. None of it means anything. And I�m just one of the objects. I�m part of the scenery. I�m real and I�m here but I�m unimportant, just like everything and everyone else, everywhere.

I don�t know whether I�ve lost myself or found myself. I don�t know me. I don�t know anyone. I don�t know me at all. But I don�t know if I�ve changed or everything else changed or if it�s just my perception of things. Because I don�t remember changing. I just remember knowing one day that I felt different, distant.

But I�m not distant. I�m right here. I�m right here where I�ve always been. But I don�t know myself anymore.

And I�m so numb. I used to feel. I remember what it was like, almost. I remember caring. I loved things. I hated things. I felt passion. I yearned. I longed. I anticipated, I needed, I wanted, I desired. I hurt and I lusted and I was guilty. I was remorseful, sorry, emotional, bitter, in love. I liked things. I liked washing my hair and feeling the blow dryer on my skin. I liked washing dishes because of how good the hot water felt around my hands. I liked opening mail. I liked buying CDs and trying on new boots and the feel of leather. I liked kissing. I liked sex. I liked waking up in the morning and feeling safe and warm in a lover�s arms. I don�t feel that now. I don�t feel anything but cold.

Confused. I feel confused. Because I don�t know what happened to make me like this. I don�t know why nothing seems to matter. I don�t know why I don�t feel the way I did. I want to know why. But I don�t think this is something I can understand.

I�m numb. I look at things that used to mean the world to me and I don�t feel a thing. I hear about accidents and deaths and couples splitting up and people losing their jobs, and I know I should feel something, I know I should feel bad or sorry or something the way I used to, but I can�t seem to care. I�ve tried. I just can�t make myself feel a thing. And sometimes that scares me.

I don�t understand. I�m so cold and I�m so numb and I shouldn�t be able to but I get scared. I�m not scared of all the stuff I used to be scared of, like losing my job or dying or even of you leaving me, but I�m scared because I�m not scared. I�m scared because I can almost remember how things used to be so now I know this isn�t right.

Because I used to feel. This might not be so bad if I didn�t have another state to compare it to, but I do. I was different before, but before what I don�t know. Now I look at you and I don�t see what I did. I used to love you. I used to need you more than I could put into words. I used to enjoy being with you, love everything about you, ache when I wasn�t near you, think I might die of pleasure when I was inside you, or when you were inside me. You meant everything to me. I would�ve done anything for you. I used to dream you�d leave me then wake up and hold you so tight we almost couldn�t breathe, and all because I was so scared I�d lose you. Lately that�s becoming a reality, but now I don�t feel like that. I don�t feel anything. And it scares me.

I don�t feel anything anymore. I know I used to but I don�t miss it because all I remember is that I used to feel, not how it felt to feel. I understand that I used to feel. And I can almost remember what it was like but it�s all just out of reach � sometimes I think I�m remembering what it was like to be excited about a match or happy to be with friends or completed because I was with you, but before I can catch hold it slips away and it�s gone again.

So I go through the motions. I know how I�m supposed to act and it�s not difficult. No one knows how I feel. Except maybe you do because sometimes I see you looking at me and I think maybe you see that I�ve changed. But I don�t know if I have changed. Maybe everything else changed. Or maybe that�s wishful thinking. Maybe I�m losing my mind. Maybe I�m losing touch with reality.

Except that I�m not. As distant as I am from feeling, I see things for what they are. I�m living, or existing, or whatever this is, in the real world. It�s more real that it�s ever been. Because before everything was about me. My life, my world, was completely egocentric. I thought about how things affected me, how what I did affected others, about happiness and love and satisfaction. I thought about you. But you know, none of that matters. Nothing really matters. We�re all just here, all of us, and nothing around us is important. I�m not important. In this world, in the real world, nothing I�ll ever do will matter. There�s no point in being here. But I wish I didn�t know all this.

I hurt myself today. Because I thought maybe if I could feel something, really make myself feel something, then maybe I�d come back. I thought maybe the old me would come back and I�d feel the way I did. I wanted to go back. Because I liked my old life. I was happy. I wasn�t a part of the whole world, seeing what a tiny part I have to play, cold all the way through � I was a part of my own world, or your world, of this place where I knew I belonged and where emotions and feelings and actions were all important. It mattered to you how I felt, just like it mattered to me how you felt. We wanted to make each other happy. We were perfect together. And I wanted that back.

I cut myself. I took a razorblade and I stood in the bathroom over the sink, and I watched as I drew the blade over my arm and as the blood welled up. I tried to focus on the pain, and there was pain. But that�s all there was. There was no feeling. All there was was pain, and that�s not what I wanted. I wanted to care that I was hurting myself, I wanted to feel like I�d made a mistake, I wanted to cry. But I didn�t. I was just as numb as ever. I dropped the blade into the sink and started to wash away the blood.

Then you walked into the room and you saw me. You didn�t know what to think and I didn�t know what to say. I knew I should feel like I had to say something, because I could see you were scared I�d been going to hurt myself more than I had. Maybe you�d thought I was going to kill myself. Maybe I would have. But I couldn�t think of the words to make you feel better and I couldn�t think of any reason I should.

You took my arm and you sat me down and you bandaged me up. And when you looked up into my eyes and I saw that you were trying not to cry, I guess that�s when I knew.

There�s very little left of the old me. There�s so little left that I�m all empty and hollowed out inside. When I cut myself I should�ve hurt more than I did � it felt like the nothingness was just bleeding out of me, covering me, taking me down further. And I know that I�m drowning. I�m underneath the water and it�s dragging me down and I should be so scared and I think maybe I am because all I want is to go back to being how I was. But I�m close enough to the surface to see your face and I think maybe if I can just reach you then everything�ll be fine �cause you�d be able to grab my hand and pull me out and back into our world. Maybe if you could grab hold of me I could leave the numbness behind. I was to feel again. I want to feel you.

I need you. I want you to know that. I�m broken and I�m not the same person I used to be, but I need you. I�m drowning in my own distance. I�ve lost all my feeling and I don�t think I can get it back without your help.

Help me, Adam. You�ve got to help me. I don�t want this. And I think I might just drown without you.

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