Effeminate: Being Cared For | COMPLETED

Getting by life for the past five months had been a large struggle, it hadn’t been as much pleasant before the five months but it was bearable—everything was to be solved at a point. The over worked days, s**t tons of work—it could have been solved. It always was solved at one point and that was what mattered. Having her best friends along side her each step had a must great impact. The help enough was massive—enormous—some thing she could never be over great full of, not one bit. They support had been her greatest strength—they were. Cheering her up most days when she was down, sick or anything else—but mostly during her heartbreaks. For those she owed them her life. They did laugh with her most times and on the bad, unbearable days? they cried with her though if the reason for her tears had been because of a guy—ruthlessly breaking her fragile heart, again—Isis never did cry with her actually. Mars of course did, comforting her through the night as Isis man haunted each guy down—taught them a lesson they deserved—then right after they would be cuddled up, just the three of them. A bunch of movies and s**t tons of junk food—nothing felt better then food after a brutal breakup or after comforting a friend while they cried, them smiling was a reward but so was the food. Technically to Isis’ perspective, it had always been after they got their knuckles bruised after repeatedly punch a douche bag. The way it had been. Before Isis left her, them. It was extremely rare to see the pain on a happy face, more less on Isis if she recalled. They never showed any sort of struggle be it physical or emotional, they were the ray of sunshine and hope both Mars and Sheen needed. And maybe that should have been the reason she gave it extra thought, hanged around longer—asked more, just to make sure. Just to make sure it was all okay, truly okay before they did it. Leaving so much unanswered questions. The first month that’s how it went. The endless questioning she got no answers to or asked no particular person, trying to understand it all—if it could have ever understood. Each situation from the moment they met her to when they became friends. There were pieces left unsolved in her mind. The next month, it had been her noticing the empty spots—the signs—the things she should have seen in the beginning. Their endless need to handle it all alone, to be alone most days. Their need to take attention of each conversation away from them to her or Mars—the glint of sadness that flashed in their eyes whenever they zoned out, or thought none of their friend had been looking. They should have come to her or Mars. Isis wasn’t alone, they had them if only Sheen told her then before everything fell apart. It had been true, suicide never took the pain away—it passed it on to the loved ones. The endless loop of guilt they placed on themselves—the need to understand. Impossible to ever look past it, not in years certainly not in months. She hadn’t gotten past it, of course she had Mars and her family, she adored them—she was grateful. But she just couldn’t pull herself out of it all. The darkness, the pain and guilt. I should have known. Was the thought continuously running in her mind, each night. It never really left her mind she just tried to tune it out, the best she could ever do. A problem weighing on one was as twice heavy then if it had a helping hand, one she willingly accepted. It had not gotten better after three months, that was when the self medication developed. Sheen felt less miserable drunk or high—it was a clean blank slate, some peace and sleep for once in a while. Sure the morning wouldn’t get any friendly but when had it ever. She did not mind the pounding headache, practically vomiting her intestines out even if she barely ate anything. Not even the withdrawal fevers she got if she wasn’t high or drunk were enough for her to stop. It hadn’t been easy to get to cloud 9 but when she did, she stayed—once it began fading she surely went back. It wasn’t a problem, she thought it wasn’t at all. It was extremely rare to see one admit they needed help or over ask for it. Everyone tried, she simply wouldn’t listen saying it was her coping mechanism—everyone had one. Mars had hers and it was clearly avoiding any talk of Isis, she wasn’t ready to let go nor accept it. Everything Isis had at her place—was still there locked and avoided—each time wasn’t the right time. When was it ever the right time to move on from an amazing soul. When had it ever been easy to move on at all. “Sheen!” Mars voice brought her attention back from her daydream. Sheen had her head hanging upsidedown from the couch giggling she glanced over at the door. “Mars I see stars—Isis loved stars, let’s watch the stars.” Just by her actions it was clear as day the girl wasn’t at all sober—she never was really. “What did you have Sheen?” “A new drug. It works Mars, I feel better!” “You aren’t better Sheen, you are sweating and burning up.” Mars had her palm pressed against Sheen forehead. “Isis is hugging me to tight—that’s why!” the girl giggled wiggling herself out of Mars hold. “Sheen I can’t loose you too.” it was only a whisper yet the sad, worried tone had not left. “Silly you, you won’t—have one and we shall float on the stars together with Isis!” Mars snatched the small plastic bag from her palm, curiously she studied the pack. “You mixed this with alcohol?” “Duh! how was I supposed to swallow it.” another fit of giggles echoed through the room. “Martie why are you spinning? Am I spinning, is the world spinning.” A cold moist towel was placed over forehead instantly causing her to whine. “That is cold!” “I need you to get better please, I can’t do it on my own Sheen. You need to try.” “I’m better Mars, I swear.” lightly gripping her hand she squeezed it tenderly. Mars wasn’t having it. Pulling her hand away she shook her head, it had not been the first time those words came out her mouth, just that it would be the last time she didn’t persist. Sheen liking it or not. “You need help Sheen. You aren’t better, you are getting worse.”