Abstract

Ashlie
Life is an abstract. The different colors reflecting moods, the different patterns reflecting the scenes of life. The swirls and spirals, going up and down, around and around. Everyone’s life is an abstract, your memories, your hopes and your dreams; they meld together to make the abstract of your life. With colors and shades, with bright patches and dark, shiny and dull, it will always tell a story.

If you look closely into each small change, into each interwoven color, you will see it. The stories of mystery, betrayal and hurt, study it and notice it, you will realize the depth.

Waiting in the dark, you’re not sure what you’re waiting for. But you’ve got to wait, it’s crucial; if you leave they’ll notice, if you stay, you’ll die. If you wait to long you fall deeper, into yourself, the darkness. Sometimes there is a light, far and dim, but its there. Sometimes if you try, you will see yourself, in a mirror, in a reflection, you won’t realise, but it is you. You’ve changed so much since you fell into this hole.

You don’t realise, but you’ve dug it yourself.

One day everything will change, hopefully for the better. Maybe one day, life will be life, not this subconscious life you’re living, the half existence that you’re surviving in.

Depression is worse than people think; I found that out from watching you. You fall, I help you up, each time I help you up I hope you’re not totally broken beyond repair.

One day you will be. Then I won’t be able to help.

You let me down
Again
I help you
I trust you
Then you do it
Again
Always
Like a huge glass sphere
Breaking
Again and again
I try to put it together bit by bit
But I fail again
And you break
Again

Night fell quickly in Barton, a small farm south of Dubbo, New South Wales. It was winter, but the farm hadn’t seen rain nor any water for quiet a while. All six dams of the 180 hectare farm had dried and most of the animals had been sold at prices crazily low.

The family that lived there consisted of three kids and the two parents.
The kids Jake, who was 9, Monique, 12, and last, Damien who was the oldest at just over 14, each had their own room. Jake and Monique both kept theirs clean but Damien; his room was like a herd of stampeding cows had run through it.

The parents, Richard and Alison both worked full time on the farm, but with both their efforts and the kids help, after their home schooling, that Alison supervised, they still were in debt and had more loans than a poor gambler, but they would not give in.

Barton and there neighbour were the only farms left running in the district, the other farmers had sold or they had and moved into town, but Richard and Alison fought on.

The news blared out of the old battery radio, the only way they heard from the outside these days. A radio announcers voice was talking about a train crash in Sydney, Richard kept eating. He wasn’t interested. The next item started with the words, ‘Drought relief is coming soon, Prime Minister, George Johnson, has promised that the drought relief is coming through. Farmers should expect the payment to come through within four to five weeks.’ The announcer then went on about some people being lost along the east coast of Tasmania.

‘Finally!’ Richard said, ‘they’ve put it off until there’s only a few f**k’n farmers left, those f***wits in parliament don’t know what there f**k’n talking about.’

‘Now now, Richard, there’s no need to go off, we could always have no payment at all, we have to get that payment, and what your saying isn’t going to help.’

‘F**k’n hell! I’m the man of the house and I don’t care what you f**k’n say, so,’ he paused to throw the cup he was holding at her, ‘f**k’n shut the hell up, or, I’ll f**k’n make you!’

The stress was starting to show through.

Your words hit me
Like a shotgun blast
Your insults break me
Like an infant and a glass

It kills me
Like hunters and prey
It kills me
Day by day

The two youngest kids were coping ok, but were sinking lower with their parents. Monique kept fairly happy; she was born for the farm. She worked well with the animals and had an instinct that kept her out of her father’s way. At meal times she would hide a little of her own food and take it to the animals later, for this, they loved her.

Jake was happy enough as well, he had a friend over at the next farm, they would meet up halfway, both on their little 80cc motorbikes. They had started a track, and it was getting bigger, they were fine.

But Damien, he was a bit of a problem.

Damien had electric blue eyes and very pale skin. His hair was four different colors. He had three green splodges, one near the back of his head, one on his left side and one on his fringe. He had a white splodge right beside the front green one. Then there was the blue, a big stripe right down the right hand side of his head. The rest of his hair was pure black. His hair drooped around his face but not in front of his eyes. Damien was proud of his hair; he’d dyed it himself, and cared for it.
Ashlie, his one and only friend, had always been friends with him and cared for him like a brother. But Damien liked her more than that; he’d had a crush on her for a little over a year.
Ashlie lived on the neighbouring farm and they’d been friends since they were just four, they were now fourteen. Growing up together meant that they knew everything about each other. Ashlie knew everything about Damien and vice versa, they trusted each other more than they trusted they’re parent. They were the ultimate best friends. They kept each others chins up while their parents got depressed.
But while Ashlie was at her home and Damien was at his, Damien didn’t cope well.
Sometimes he would go without seeing Ashlie for two or three weeks, and in this time he would get lower and lower falling into depression.

You surround me
Everywhere
Left right
Up
Everywhere
I can’t escape
So I dig down
Further into my hole

Damien
Mum and Dad don’t stop fighting! They’re always swearing and throwing stuff at each other. Mum tries to make peace but Dad’s too tired to care. If I had my way, I would be out of here. I’m always dragged into the fight and then Dad goes off at me like it’s my fault. When Ashlie comes though, it’s worth the wait. She makes me so happy, and she’s full of bubbles. It’s like she revives me. We usually go out to the old creek, there’s no water in it, but there’s some old trees, we sit under them in the little shade they offer.
We just talk about our parents and the farm, what we want to do when we leave, if we leave. She’s funny, beautiful and kind. I haven’t told anyone but I kind of have a crush on her.
When Ashlie isn’t around, I get tired, I feel like the crap doesn’t stop coming at me.
With parents swearing and throwing stuff and the farm going downhill with the drought, it builds up.
One thing that is good about living on a farm, there is so much space to escape. If they start fighting I can just run away. I have this spot I go to, and the corner of our property, it’s got two fences that join, and a couple of trees there. I’ve made like a little shelter thing there, its and old canvas tent, hanging between the trees. It stops the wind, and blocks the sun. I have all my secret things there. I have a photo of Ashlie, a knife, and a diary thing, which I write in sometimes. No one else comes here, no one knows its even here.
I often look at Ashlie’s photo, when I’m feeling really down; just the looking at her photo makes me a little happier. But when I’m really down, that’s when I use the knife.
It’s very sharp and it cuts skin and flesh very easily. I use it to cut my wrists. If Ashlie found out, I don’t know what she would do, and my parents can’t even cope with what they’ve got, so I’m not telling them. I can’t tell Ashlie, she is my life. If I lose her, I’m gone.
It relaxes me. I know everyone thinks it’s like suicidal or something, but I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with it; it helps me, and so what if my body has scars. I’ll be dead in a few years anyway.
When the blood drips off my arm, it lands on the dirt in a little bubble. Sometimes it makes patterns. It’s crazy, but when I cut, nothing else matters. Everything else fades to grey and the blood is the only thing left in colour, as it drips its in slow motion. I cry, dad says it’s weak if a guy cries, but I know I’m weak, I know everything about myself, that’s the reason why I get depressed. I know, and understand why I’m like I am.

When I cut
I don’t feel the pain
I watch the blood
Drip into the dust
I watch it make
Little abstract patterns
When I cut
It relaxes me
It helps me

While Damien’s parents swore at each he sat in his room, He listened to his CD player, with headphones; he used the headphones to block out the screaming. He was actually lucky to have a CD player; with the drought good Christmas presents were few and far between. His CD player was his latest present. Even though he only had a few CD’s, which were presents from Ashlie and his cousins in Melbourne he stilled used it all the time. His favourites were the Parkway Drive album, ‘Killing with a Smile’ and the two Atreyu albums, ‘The Curse’ and ‘Suicide Notes and Butterfly Kisses’. His cousins weren’t Damien’s type, and he didn’t get along with them at all.
Usually he would cry himself to sleep, but at times, sleep just wouldn’t come. Meaning he’d get more and more tired, until some days he was a walking zombie. This made his school grades drop. As they were out on a farm, Alison supervised the home schooling of the kids, which was another burden for her. Damien wasn’t the only one falling into depression, but he was the worst.






Alison
I don’t know how much longer we can go on for. Richard can’t keep going like we are, and neither can the kids. The longer we go the worse it will get. I know I can’t cope much longer. Richard is always yelling and nothing seems to stop him once he gets going, I try to shield the kids from the worst of it but sometimes it unavoidable and Damien gets dragged in. I know he doesn’t like it, I can tell, he just sits there staring at the wall until Richards stops. He doesn’t even flinch when he gets hit with the things that get thrown at him. He’s a strong boy, but how strong on the inside we don’t know.
I worry about the kids, they put up with less than us adults, but they’re only kids. Jake isn’t even ten yet. I worry so much. What will happen if something happens to Richard, or me? The kids would have to stay at my sister’s place in Melbourne, and I know they hate going there. I know that Jamie is cruel, he’s not a nice kid, and he’s used to getting his own way, only children are like that; but I’m not going to tell my sister how to bring her kids up.
I can only wait and hope, that something will happen, that something will change. Because I know we can’t cope like this for much longer.

Time is a terrible thing
No one can control it
It controls us
Time can changes all things
But hope will stay the same

When Richard and Alison first got married, Richard was a calm and very gentle man. But stress had affected him over the past three years. What he’d become, he was ashamed of. His dad, who he respected a lot, said anger, is the weakest part of any man. And that if you can’t control it you’ve failed as a dad, as a friend and as a husband. Richard was always angry; angry for failing, for not being able to control himself, for being what he had always frowned upon. Richard was not normally a selfish man, but the stress had affected this as well and the main thing he worried about was himself.

Richard
Alison and Damien always seem to be in the middle of what I’m trying to do. Everything I do, they seem to be right there, in the middle of it. Preventing me from what I want to do. I’ve told them so many times, get away.
I had a dream last night, it was something like this:

I’m lying in the main street, there’s no one around, and a desolate feeling chokes me. There is some kind of celebration, but no one is there to celebrate it. Blue streamers fall slowly to the ground, they are mixing with red, the road turns into water, the blue streamers disappear and the red ones turn into raining blood. The water turns black and then it’s a trampoline, the rain turns into little red parrots and they fly away. I’m bouncing up and down and higher and higher. When I come back down the trampoline disappears and I hit the ground. Everything goes black.

I can see an orange ball, it’s made of glass and it shatters and floats to the ground, it turns into a puddle of blood. Then it’s raining, the blood gets washed away and I see myself walking, the surroundings change.
I’m in a park, I sit down on a metal park bench, a homeless bum sits down beside me, then I am the homeless person and I’m sitting against a dumpster with rats crawling all over me. They turn into ants and I’m screaming, then it goes dark, I see the stars the ants are gone everything goes dark again, there’s a pinprick of light, I run towards it, but it stays tiny. I run faster and faster. I run and run, it just stays still, that tiny bit further.

That’s when I woke up thrashing and screaming.

I don’t know why this dream in particular scared me, but it was the worst nightmare I’ve ever had.

Nightmares,
The scariest thing
Is that while it’s happening
You think it’s real
When it’s no,
You think its life
When it’s not

Ashlie
I’m going to Damien’s next week I can’t wait. It gets so boring at my place, there’s not much to do, dad’s sold all the sheep, so there’s no animals to feed or anything.
When I go to Damien’s is when I have the most fun, at home there really is nothing to do. I have all my things ready to go. So the second dad says I can go, I’m out of here.

Damien
Ashlie is coming! She’s coming over to stay for a week, I can’t wait to see her again, I was starting to feel really crap. I was starting to feel like cutting again, and as much as it calms me and relaxes me, I hate doing it.
Ashlie’s hair reminds me of the creek when it had water in it. Her eyes are like a window, deep into her soul. I don’t know what would happen if I lost her, but I know it wouldn’t be anything good.

Richard
Ashlie is coming, great! Another pain in the arse to put up with, She always hangs around Damien and never helps with anything so what’s the point in her coming. I think this will be the last time she will be coming. Another person in the house is just too much.

Alison
Ashlie is coming! Which is great because Damien becomes a new person when she does, he just seems so much happier when she’s here, it’s like she revives him. She is stubborn but I guess young girls are at that age. I’ve helped Damien put the old canvas tent up, so they can stay out of the house, I try to keep them out of Richard’s way, but sometimes he’s unavoidable.





One week later.

Ashlie and Damien had spent the day walking around the outside of the property. Taking there time, they’d spent the time filling each other in on the time they’d missed together.

Halfway through, Damien realised they were coming to his little hide out.

‘We have to go back,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘I dunno! We just gotta. I don’t like it here.’

‘Umm, ok? You just don’t like it. So we’re going back?’

‘Yea, I hate this place.’

‘Ok, so you hate it, there’s gotta be a reason.’

‘Let’s just go.’

‘You can, I’m goin over to sit under those trees,’ she said pointing to the bush surrounding Damien’s hideout.

‘Ok, ok, just wait here for a sec please? I need to fix something up.’

‘Umm, ok I guess? Why do you need to fix something up alone, when ya don’t even like the place?’ But Damien had disappeared.

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ He muttered to himself running straight to his hideout. He grabbed his knife, the photo and diary; he scuffed the dirt to cover the blood and ran quickly around the back off one of the trees and dumped the stuff there, just in time.

‘Where are ya? Damien? Oh, there you are, what were you doing?’

‘Umm, nothing. I was just checking this place out, look it’s an old tent.’

Damien pretended to be interested at it, and acted like he hadn’t seen it, this was the only secret, apart from him liking her, that he had kept from her.