Hands | DNF

26.

What no one is willing to do is be truthful. Because that will mean they have to admit to themselves that sometimes they are not a good person and nobody can do that.

I thought I had a happy childhood and yeah my mom did everything in her power for me to have one. But in reality.

My best friends would trip me or laugh at me. I would consider them my friends but I was only there so there was someone to run from and to be toyed with. But I was always laughing and smiling turning into a joke even tho I never felt like that. I had to be liked, I had to be accepted.

Then middle school came.

I was constantly bullied, looked down upon. I was a bit chubby through the better part of my life so I was the easy target. The one my classmates would use as a laughing stock. There would also be daily reminders of my weight.

I hated it and I began skipping meals and avoiding almost everything with a lot of calories. After it was all about calories, but I still had a smile on my face. I would think about throwing up anything I ate. So I can be skinny. That was just a couple of months before my mom was diagnosed. After she did, I completely stopped eating. I would often get lightheaded, but I started dropping weight and that just made me continue.

At that time I had a few close friends at school. In reality tho, it seems as though I was the only one that didn't fit in.  I was the only one considering us to be close or even best friends. We would be called friends only on paper. I would be left out of conversations and plans. If I stopped asking them to hang out, we would never see each other. Of course unless I could help them with something. Nobody knew me, the real me. The worst part is that nobody wanted to know me.

I felt utterly alone, slowly drowning. In this world there was not one person that knew what was going on with me.

Oh how I regret not appreciating that. Now, when my friends knew almost everything it was worse. The phycologist was good but the pills she prescribed me were the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

I've been taking them for 3 days now and I couldn't recognize even the little of what was left of me.

The pills made me feel tired. I began sleeping through the bigger part of my days. I didn't feel anxious but I also stopped feeling the little joy I felt. I got more hot headed and started getting mad more easily.

Now I was sitting at the bathroom floor crying my eyes out because I no longer could recognize the creature staring back at me in the mirror. Just minutes ago I was yelling at Clay because he was trying to make me take the pills again and I refused. Things got out of hand and before I knew it I got pissed and told him that I didn't want to see him. Over some stupid pills I had hurt my best friend.

I reached to the bathroom drawer and pulled the metal razor that was hidden in a box of bandages.