Hands | DNF

19.

When I got home I found Clay on the couch. He was editing a youtube videos.
I dropped my bag on a chair and joined him.

I was quite I didn't feel like talking and even tho I never said it out loud, he knew.

He knew that I was not in the mood to talk so all he did was close his laptop and hug me. Bringing me closer so now he was resting his head on top of mine and I was leaning on his chest. I felt his breathing that just made everything so much more real.

What got me down was my last period when my teacher handed me my test back. A bad mark as always.

What sucks is no matter how much I try, it's never enough. Not for anyone.

You might think: "What's so bad about a bad mark? It's just a grade you can always fix it."

But for me it wasn't just a bad grade, It was proof of how disappointing I was. It was proof that I am useless. It made me hate myself even more than I did.
It made me feel dumb and like the world and everyone in it was better without such a failure in it.

It was worse it confirmed what my head was telling me. And I started following everything that my brain said afterwards.

Go grab the sharpest thing you can find. Go cut it is your punishment but it will also make you feel better. Come on you know you want it. NO, YOU NEED IT. We want it. The urge, relieve it now! You are useless and no one will know, so just do it. Just one last time...

My eyes started to water. I moved back and looked at Clay. He was looking at me with pain and sorrow.

I could never tell him. He will think I am a freak. No one wants to be around a cloud of sadness. I am better off alone at least like that I wouldn't be such a burden. I would be free to do whatever I want.

I looked away the only thing I was able to think about was how much I needed to cut. The urge grew with every second. And I couldn't stop thinking about it.

The first tear escaped from my eye and I quickly wiped it. Pulling away from Clay and getting off the sofa.

I walked to the bathroom and closed the door. I stared at the mirror for a second. Seeing many tears rolling down my face. I didn't have enough energy to cry fully and sob, but the tears were there.

I opened the cupboard and ravaged through it until I found the small silver blade. Holding it with my hands I sat down on the floor with my back against the wall. I held it with such caution. My fingers were trembling against the cold metal. Just one line. just one to relief the stress.

And so I rolled up my sleeve and prepped the blade against the skin on my forearm. Yearning to feel the feeling of the metal sliding through my skin.

I cut one small line. But then I wanted more like I was an addict needing his next fix. I did a second line and then a third. But as I was about to do a fourth, a knock on the door made me stop.

"George? You've been in there for a while. Are you ok?"