bipolar baby/mid90s

I hate myself

My mom found out about the news a few hours later. She didn't show up until the next day. I asked the nurse why didn't she show up immediately, the nurse asked if I wanted to know.

Immediately I knew what my mother said was bad..or that she was disappointed. Apparently my mother had said, "of course she did." And then hung up. Wow. That hurt like a fuck ton of bricks. Ray, Fuckshit, and Fourth grade were there hugging me and talking to me making jokes when I told them what she had said, trying to make me feel better. Ruben was with Stevie. Talking to him the whole time. Stevie didn't talk to me, at all. Shit.

I wasn't better. In all the time I kept wondering what was going on in Stevie's head. Did I scar him? Did I make him angry? Did I disappoint him? I came to a conclusion, of course I did. He looked up to me, and I let him down. And that wasn't good. I was sad, depressed, and hurt. I wanted to hurt myself.

-MENTION OF WANTING TO SH-

Slit my wrist to let the blood drip down and drenching me in sadness, stare at the sun till my eyes melted, tear my hair out of my head till all of the follicles were ripping my skin off, burn my self till my skin melted, or everything worse.

I hated that I hurt Stevie, my best friends, and the one I love.

Ian didn't turn up at all. When mom showed up, she looked mad, and she also looked like she didn't care. Maybe she did, I wouldn't expect her to anyway. It wasn't a surprise or a shock for me to do this.

When I was sitting in the hospital alone one day, I realized I had to go through withdrawal. I knew it was gonna fucking suck. Cause I've been through it before.

My mom picked me up from the hospital and I sat in the backseat, not wanting to be up there with her. Stevie was sitting in the backseat with me and leaned his head on my shoulder. It comforted me.

I looked out the window, it was raining, my favorite weather. I grabbed my headphones and tiny discman that Stevie had bought for me for my 16th birthday and played Tupac. I love him because he can really speak what he feels in his songs.

I eventually feel asleep with my head against the window.

----

We got home from the hospital and I got out of the car, I immediately felt sick. Fuck, withdrawal is starting.

I ran into the house and went to the bathroom to throw up. I coughed a little bit afterward and leaned away from the toilet, I wiped my mouth with a towel that was near and threw it into the dirty clothes basket. I flushed the toilet and sighed leaning onto the wall behind me.

My mom came into the bathroom and I looked up at her. She slightly smiled. "Are you okay sweetheart?" I nod. "I'm fine." She sighs and closes the door, and then sits next to me on the floor.

She puts her arm around me and I lean into her. "Mom, I heard what you said when the doctors called you to tell you what happened," I could feel her stiffen. "But I forgive you. Because its true."

She shakes her head. "I was kind of drunk hun. It's not true. Thats why I didn't come that day." "It's fine. But mom, it is true. I screw up a fuck ton. And I have an addiction, it was gonna happen eventually."

She squeezes my shoulder. She shakily breathes out, about the cry. "I can see a good future ahead of you. The next chapter. All you need to do is keep reading this one to get to the next one."

"I love you momma."

"I love you too kid." She kissed my head and a tear falls down my cheek.

I know she doesn't exactly care too much about my addiction, but I'm happy that she cares enough to do this for me.

Speak to me and try her best.

That's all I need.