Dolls in Dollhouses (A Jonnor Fanfiction)

Part 11

(Trigger Warning)
It's been a month. A whole month and I honestly don't know what to do with myself anymore.
He's my everything. Was. He was my everything.
I tried texting him the other day and he won't respond. I think I lost him.
I miss the long talks at the beach, on the phone and long text messages during class when I'm supposed to be doing my work but I didn't want him to think I was ignoring him or I was too busy for him. I was never too busy to talk to him.
I miss the long talks on the phone late at night when I was supposed to be asleep and I know I'll be so tired tomorrow I won't be able to focus but, I didn't care cause the conversation was so perfect; he's so perfect. Even when it's the next morning I didn't regret it, the long talks are what made our relationship a relationship, an impeccable relationship at that. What made it perfect was we understood each other.
I stood in front of the mirror in my room. Door locked, I lift up my shirt and glaze my hand over my torso, bruises gone, it's bumpy now; short, long, thin faded scars stretch across, in a few days they won't even be visible but more will appear sooner or later.
I take off my shirt, examining my body before sliding another on adding a flannel on top.
I stand here for awhile.
How could anyone like this?
I see girls all the time looking at themselves in the mirror. I always thought they were just obsessed with how they look (which is mostly true) but I never thought about why. Some girls don't give a shit, now I realize they must have a lot of confidence to go out looking how ever they woke up, but then they could also be fighting; who? I don't know. I understand that some girls don't like looking in the mirror because they don't like how they look. This goes along with with girls that are obsessed with how they look, I now realize that they are the one that are less confident about them selves. They spend hours looking in the mirror, doing their make-up, hair, ect. then go out complaining how they look when they look perfectly fine (I do that a lot😅/AN) I roll my eyes at them, I mean I used to. But now I understand why they spend those hours; frankly they could spend all day in the bathroom changing the way they look every 5 minutes and still not like how it looks in the mirror. They're the ones that are so insecure about themselves no matter how many compliments they get, they just don't believe them. They pick out every little flaw, accidentally destroying themselves in the process. I feel bad for every eye roll I did at my friends when we would hang out and try to go some where and they go to the bathroom for 20 to 30 minutes just doing their hair or makeup. I think they look beautiful just the way they are, if I was a girl I would be jealous, hell I'm jealous anyways. I'm not saying people that wear makeup can't be confident with themselves cause I can tell you I seen plenty of girls that wear makeup that are a little TOO confident.
I stop and swing my mirror around to face the wall. Laying back down I look at my dead phone I haven't charged for a couple of days now.
I don't care anymore.
I get up to head down stairs, I grab a monster and sit on the couch to play video games. I'm home alone so the house is deafening quiet, even the TV is on mute.
The only thing heard is my own thoughts which can only be heard by me.
It's soon dark and no one is home still. I sit at the kitchen table and eat cereal.
The clock structs 8, and I'm still sitting at the table looking off into space. I get up and put my bowl in the sink after dumping the soggy leftovers.
Up stairs I step back in my bathroom, I strip then jump in the shower. After I wash up I debate on getting out and leaving the comforting warmness.
Wrapped a towel around my waist I brush my teeth, then go in my room. Underwear, shirt, then I look through drawers for shorts to sleep in. I finally find some on the ground but I'm not sure if I wore them or not, I flip my mirror around and throw the shorts in the corner hamper. I glance down at my right thigh, both are very muscular. I glaze my hand over, just like my torso it's bumpy but only 4 bumps.
The scars are deeper than the ones on my torso, indicating they will take longer to go away.
My hand slowly goes over the scarred letters. Big spaces in between.
JUDE
I do care.
I plug in my phone.
(I hope you understand who's POV this is in/AN)