A/N : again, this is a tw- please don't read this if it could be triggering for you.
also, i'm aware the writing isn't the best, but i couldn't care less right now. i just need to write. enjoy, i guess.
—————————————Everything is empty. Everything is black. Everything is peaceful. All I can feel the burn on my hand where i'm subconsciously scratching it over and over with my compass, and it feels wonderful. Relieving, yet painful. The pain I deserve to feel.
We had been doing the circumference of circles in math class, and once again, my mind shut off without my bodies permission, leaving me in a void of darkness. A void of emptyness. Peace.
"ASHLEY?!!" It was a far off noise, an echo in the back of my mind. Yet i would recognise that rough, harsh, cold voice anywhere. My math teacher. Calling on me. Yipee. Before I could stop myself, I was back in class, and not very happy about it.
I felt their eyes burn into the back of my head as I came into my senses again. Everyone was staring at me. All my classmates. They had all noticed what i was doing with the compass. They're all staring at me, they're looking. Shit. shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. They saw me, they saw me. They think i'm insane, I AM insane, I am crazy and, and, and stupid and ugly and weak and worthless and sad, so so sad.
The teachers all sigh whenever they see me. I just know what's going through their heads. The same thing that's going through everyone's heads about me, including my own. Especially my own. Over and over and over.
fake, ugly, fat, weak, useless, stupid, failure.
attention seeking.
failure.
failure. failure. failure.
fat. fat. fat.
weak. weak. weak.* * *
I've failed my exams. Yes yes, I know that i haven't gotten the results back but I just know, i just know it. Grades slipping, parents yelling, friends leaving. Everything was going wrong, wrong, wrong.
Everything was fine, not that long ago. I'm not sure how I started to slip. Things just happened. And the more distant I became, the more people that stopped talking to me, stopped reaching out. I am alone. The only thing I know for sure is that I'm a terrible friend and horrible person, so it's really no wonder friendships are ending, no wonder they're leaving. Can I even blame them? If I had a choice, I'd leave me too. What's going on is because of me, nobody else. It's my fault, it always is. I've screwed up.
As the bell rang, marking the end of that seemingly endless day of school, I let out a groan of pained relief, and mindlessly shoved my books into my falling-apart rucksack. Like I did most days, I scampered towards the door at top speed, as though the room behind me was on fire and I was fleeing for my life. Although, now that I think of it, if the room actually had been on fire, i probably would've stayed there and let myself burn to a crisp. I deserve that.
My feet dragged behind me as I clumped my way to the school exit. Lumping my bag behind me, I trecked to the nearest bin, and checking over my shoulder to make sure nobody was around, I dumped that days lunch and strolled away as fast as was humanly possible for me, considering I was functioning on about an hour of sleep.
Around a quarter hour later, I arrived at my bus stop, my head spinning, my heart beating heavily. I hate all social settings. Everywhere I went, people stared. I just know they're staring.
I went to lean up against the wall of the shelter while I waited for my bus (which was due in roughly thirty minutes) when I caught glimpse of me in a puddle. My reflection. It was disgusting.
My shirt was clinging to my chest, showing off my... boobs. I hated them, even more than I hated my long hair and that's saying something. And even though almost the other girls in my class all had larger brests than me, I still felt like mine were too big, too visable. Even with the duct tape and layers upon layers of tight bandages I had used in an attempt to flatten them, they looked far too substantial. It made me sick. The fact that i even had a chest was enough to make me want to drown myself. Why, why, why.
Then my eyes caught sight of my stomach. No wonder nobody liked me, when I looked as though I was pregnant with sextuplets. And my thighs, thick and jiggly. Wobble wobble. I was an ugly elephant. With a triple chin.
After punching myself with all the force I could muster, I set down my school bag. It would be safe here, underneath the rundown bench in the shelter of the bus stop. Taking a deep breath, I hit myself once more and begin to run. If i go fast enough, i could get in a five mile run before returning for my bus. Then, once I arrive home, I could go for another few runs, and "eat out" at Ramen. Mom would never know that i didn't actually go. Nobody would. I start running faster, as my stomach churns at the thought of even considering eating.
One mile (and 8 minutes) into my impulsive run, I started to feel dizzy. I couldn't breathe. My chest, it was so, so, so tight. I can't breathe.
You're so weak. Worthless. Pathetic. You can't even run. Lazy, fat, ugly, pathetic. You should just throw yourself in front of that car. Nobody would even notice. No one cares.
I begin to sprint faster, desperately attempting to escape the words in my head, though they weren't going anywhere, because both me and the voice knew it was true.
Fat. That's right. That's what you are. Fat ugly GIRL. your a GIRL. Overweight. Obese, ugly. Gross, pudgy hideous idiot. If you want to run so badly, why don't you run in front of that car? It will kill you, and that's what you want, isn't it? Keep on running then, coward.
I abandoned my plan of heading back after five miles, and just kept on running. Faster and faster. It didn't matter what direction, it didn't matter at all. I would just tell my mom I missed the bus. Yes, that would work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a/n. this is a short story i wrote ages ago when i felt like shit, but i've been keeping in drafts until now. i just needed to make an esacpe, and it worked. if you want more like this, lemme know :) thanks for reading
- trudy <3
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Contothis is a short story that i wrote when i was stressed and needed a way to relax. this following story could be very triggering, so please be kind to yourself. most triggers in tags, but here's a few more: self hatred, unexplained guilt, body shami...