my shitty random story from instagram
enjoy!
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‘freak’,’fat’,’ugly’,’retard’....
The words echoed in my head as I walked home. Another day of being tortured by those people I used to call my friends. “Mom?” I called as I walked through the door of my house, “I’m in the kitchen. Do you want some dinner?” she smiled as she came into the hallway carrying a pan of simmering chicken. “No thanks, I had a big lunch” I smiled back, hoping she believed me. “okay, just let me know if you get hungry!” and walked back into the kitchen to clean up. “I’m starving...” I whispered under my breath and turned down the hall and entered my small, crowded bedroom. The walls covered with posters of my favourite music and shows, a bulletin board hung crookedly above my bed, covered with inspirational quotes and thinspo’s. I sighed as I looked at it; I’ll never look like them...thigh gaps, flat, toned stomachs..Never. I threw down my bag and grabbed my iPod off my small desk and put my headphones in. A few hours later, I got up and walked to the kitchen, my hunger was unbearable. On the fridge there was a note, from mom. ‘Gone out with Joanne. Your dad will be home in a bit. Love you, Mom. 5:33pm’ it read. Great, home alone with him again...My mom had raised me alone my whole life. My real dad was killed by lung cancer shortly after I was born. She had dated on-and-off, but finally got re-married when I was 8, to a man who hated me. I ripped the note off the fridge and crumpled it, she knows how hard it is to be alone with him; so why does she still leave me alone? “She doesn’t care about me. Nobody does.” I whispered to myself, grabbing a carton of milk and taking a swig. “That’s unsanitary, Denise.” said a slurred voice from behind me. I jumped, spilling the milk all over the floor.
“That’s not my name.” I snapped. Technically, it was my name, but I’ve gone by my middle name for my whole life; Morgan. “Clean up that mess, and get your fat ass to bed.” he wobbled into the den and sunk into the couch to watch football. I bent down and started to wipe up the milk, hot tears streaming down my face. “stop crying, you baby. I’m trying to watch football.” he yelled I threw the rag in the wash as I ran to my bedroom, and slammed the door. I fell to the floor sobbing.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such a horrible person.” I whispered, as I pressed the blade into my skin. “I’m sorry mom. I’m sorry dad. I’m sorry I’m not enough” I cried, and put my face in my palm. The hot tears rolling off my face and mixing with the blood on my wrist, dripping on to my clothes. I wiped away the tears with the back of my other hand and grabbed some tissues, layering them on my wrist to absorb the blood. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand, 11:09. I stood and changed into clean pyjamas, put everything away and sat on my window sill, watching the stars. My clock alarm beeped as it hit 11:11, and I put my hand on my heart. Staring out at the moon, I whispered the same thing I wished for every night, “I just want to be okay. I just want someone to care.”
I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache; thank god it was a Saturday. I grabbed some clean workout clothes and headed to the bathroom. I took some Advil and looked in the mirror; I had several new zits on my hairline and my hair was a greasy mess. “Why are you so ugly?” I sighed and left the room. “Mom?” I whispered, in case she was still asleep. “Yes?” she replied from her bedroom, still groggy from being woken up. “I’m going to...the park. I won’t be back until later. Okay?” I couldn’t tell her I was going to the gym. She’d never let me, she just wouldn’t get it. “Mmm...” she said as she dropped off to sleep again. I jogged out of the house and down the road to the gym in the last building of our complex, “Hey Morgan!” a voice called from inside the gym. It was Tamara; the secretary. She was a short but thin girl my age, her father owned the complex. “Hey Tam.” I smiled at her as I opened my locker and put my bag and phone inside. I started to walk towards the equipment room when she grabbed my arm, “Uhm..I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to...I dunno...hang out after I finished working?” She looked embarrassed. She didn’t have many friends, and neither did I. Maybe that’s why we always got along so well. “What? Oh! Wow, Nobody has ever wanted to hang out with me before! Sure!” I grinned, and she grinned back. “Awesome! I’ll talk to you after, then!” and she turned and walked back to her desk to assist a person waiting.
