Help (Multiple)

                                    

                                          
Suicidal!Joa Joa
Scared!Dipper
Scared!Mabel
Ignorant!Stan
Oblivious!Ford
                          
*Warning: I didn't think I'd ever be making this warning, but depression and suicide.*
                          
"I'm broken."
                          
This is silly.
                          
"No, it isn't."
                          
Why do you keep lying?
                          
"I'm not lying! Why don't you believe me?"
                          
Keeping that straight face when everything wants to hit you is hard. You try covering it, but you keep getting hit. It overwhelms you. It drowns you. It muffles your voice. Others around you use that voice to shine, while yours keeps you hidden away from them. Others ask you if your okay, but before you can shout, "No! I'm not okay!", your mouth replies, "Yeah, I'm fine."
                          
"I need help."
                          
You're being pathetic.
                          
"We talked about this."
                          
You can't convince me this is what you have.
                          
"You're my best friend! Why would I lie to you?"
                          
It doesn't trust very easily either. Your voice locks itself in a cage for hours while you listen to others talk, even if you have something to say. Or it steers you away from contact with others all together. When you do manage to find a person to cling to, your voice traps itself, so you never manage to ask for help.
                          
"But no one is there."
                          
You think I'm stupid like those people?
                          
"Please, just believe me."
                          
You have people who don't understand. They have never had to dealt with the crushing weight, so they don't believe it exists. They call you a wimp or make fun of you for it. They tell you that depression is just another way of saying you're sad and you need to get over it. But it's not like that. You can't just... stop being depressed. It isn't something that just comes out and disappears. It's always there. It's there no matter how many times you try to get rid of it.
                          
"Because when I try to tell you I need help..."
                          
I can't.
                          
"I don't care what you say anymore. I'm telling the truth."
                          
Joa looked out at the audience of people just after she began her song. She continued singing, but she felt that they didn't know the true meaning behind her songs. Her palms began to sweat and she wanted to curl up and die. Please, just kill me now. She looked down in the first row, finding the Pines family looking up at her with anticipation. Well, all but one. Joa Joa turned away and ran, dropping the mic on the floor. Kill. Me. Now.
                          
"... the words cling to my tongue and refuse to let go."
                          
I don't believe you.