Confused

Chapter 4

"Hey" from Luke
"Hi"
"Wats up bruh?"
"Bio lolz hbu?"
"School is gay, why don't you go to chs? Why do you go ths?
"Um because I like in Thomsonrock? And you live in Clemsfield?"
"So you could drive the 15 minutes."
"My parents won't let me..."
"Fuck them!"
"I'd rather not!!"
"I would"
"You're nasty"

Then the conversation goes into the natural pattern of me wanting to say something but only putting yeahs and yups because I don't want to say something dumb. it's a constant cycle with whoever I talk to.

When I get home I go straight to my bedroom, I just want to lay down and forget the world. Forget that Jackson is insane and crushes on everyone the moves forget that Luke is your not crush and only best friend and forget that you are by yourself. just forget.

I lay there for a while and to my own surprise reach for my blade, the silver paint brush that always paints red, if you asked me where I heard that I wouldn't be able to tell you, but it's one of the truest things I've heard.

I hold this little piece of metal in my hand and play with it as if it were a guitar pick. It's familiar, cold and hard, and I can hold it just right to make it hurt a little worse. I pull my jeans down a little, letting the blade take control.

It cuts through my skin easily and fast like butter, I feel a sting, it's all I've felt today and I want more, I cut again, and once more, three deep cuts look at me. I grab a tissue and hold it there for a second willing the blood to stop, I don't want to bleed, I just need the sting. I stop there, if it were a bad day it would be worse, today was normal, I try not to cut, but somedays it's hard because I am to numb and It gets to be to much.