Who, me?

September 5th

I have avoided seeing most of the people at the party up until now, maybe my new look will make my unrecognisable. That is until I remember that our sixth form is even smaller than the secondary school, everyone will remember who I am. I wake up with a new and better mindset. I relapsed again and this time my parents surprisingly managed to take some notice and got my referred to a clinical psychologist. At first it was dreadful; it was a mixture of me taking every ounce of anger out on this poor woman or crying into her shoulder about the shit show that my head is. When I refer to it I would always call it the hell hole, in our town that was what people called our school, not me I loved school and I certainly suffered without it. Now I refer to my headspace as a neutral ground. I have gotten rid of all negativity in my brain – Oscar mainly. Everyone else knew that I was hurt and knew what I said was not really me talking, so that wont be an issue. As for Elle, she's not at our sixth form she didn't get in. So I am so certain that this will be a new start for me. My psychologist would always say to me that a breakup is one of the best things to happen to a growing woman, it makes you have a 'glow' as she said and I guess I can kind of see it. I pass my reflection in the mirror and I actually feel happy with my appearance and what I look like.

***

I walk through the gates and smile and wave at everyone, luckily everyone was way too drunk to remember what I said all of those months ago – to be fair I have forgotten most of it too. I head up to my first class when I see him, Oscar. It was sort of unknown as to whether or not he would be back this year, if his attitude allowed it. He is, well was I guess, so smart. He has, had, a strong passion for History, you could ask him about virtually any time period in British history and he could give you a two-page fact file on everything. Dates, times, key people. His doctors called it an obsession, apparently it is very common for people with ADHD to develop obsessions with niche subjects or topics, but he was just insanely interested.

I had spent the past two months working on refusing to let my sickness be impacted by anxiety attacks, I had done weeks of cognitive behaviour therapy to stop it, and of course he would be the one to bring it all back. It is only until you see the person you love happy again, is when your heartbreak truly begins. His eyes dart straight down to my arm, I had worn a long sleeve turtleneck in September for a reason, but I guess he just knew. "Hey George." He sounds different, older and genuinely hurt. I remember the first time that I heard genuine pain in his voice. It was the first time I attempted to take my own life. I called him in hysterics saying that I was trying to make myself sick and nothing was working. My mum picked him up on the way while he sat in the back of the car with me, holding my head in his hands. I couldn't remember much but I can remember feeling his tears fall from his cheek to mine.

"Please don't die on me baby, please I can't be here without you. I love you." I somewhat recall Oscar whispering these words to me but I couldn't be sure. After that day I promised that I wouldn't allow myself to get back into my dark place in my hell hole – yet I broke that promise 6 months later.

He walks up toward me, my body is going into overdrive. Having him and his energy so close to me is making me grow insane and but I know what I want is insatiable. He lifts his arm out of his pocket, and just as I thought he was about to wrap his arms around me he picks up my wrist. Instead of gently rolling up my sleeve like he used to see the damage I had done, he pulls the hem of the arm on my top and rolled the sleeve up, creating friction so the sleeve will no longer move. He knows exactly what I have done to myself, and yet he said nothing. He didn't even console me, he just pulled my sleeve and walked away. I don't really know what I expected, but for the first love of my life to get so close to me and do nothing certainly wasn't it.

I spent the rest of my day in English and Biology class, and it was form time before I knew it. I walked into the room and sat next to Brooke. I hadn't seen her all day until now since we have drastically different life paths leading us to take different A levels. Brooke races in, she is always known for her crazy energy "Oh my god, Mack is having a party on Saturday. He started talking to some new girl and thinks that he'll get off with her so he's having a party. We're going." Months ago, I couldn't think of anything worse, but I am ready for this. For once I genuinely feel quite excited after hearing about the party, and even if I was against it Brooke would guilt trip me somehow. "Well who's going. Who's this new girl? I haven't met anyone." Brooke went on for the next 20 minutes about the 4 new girls and 6 new boys that had joined from schools out of town and it's a 'welcome gathering.' So I make myself sound dull and give a reluctant 'fine.' When deep down, this is the first time I have felt excited for months.