Lost Soul

Chapter 4

"Hey honey, how was school?" asks my mom when I open the front door.
"It was fine. I have a lot of homework to do though."
"Okay well dinner will be ready in a few minutes and try to do what you can before dance."
"Mom, can I skip dance today? I have so much homework and I'm really stressed out?" I literally beg her to let me stay home. After last night and today at school, the last thing I want to do is go to dance. Don't get me wrong, I love dance, but switching studios and having to make all new friends hasn't been the easiest for me. Along with my issues at school, I'm really starting to hate my life.
"No. You've been missing too much dance and that looks bad. If you want to get better, you have to keep practicing." explains my mom sternly.
"Okay fine I'll go to dance. I'm gonna go to my room, just tell me when dinner is ready."

My mom is amazing, but sometimes she just doesn't understand things. I want to tell her about the bullying, about him, about the scars, about the thoughts...but I just can't. I know if I tell her she'll just make me go to therapy even more and be on my case 24/7.

I get out my homework and grab my phone from my bag. Of course, no one has texted asking if I'm okay. Goes to show how much my friends care...when I log onto my Instagram account, I search for his account. I knew he would do this, but seeing it just makes it worse. All of our pictures are gone. He changed his bio putting, "single 😏😉"
The tears start building up. I go to my page, ready to delete all existence of him. But I can't. How can you let go of someone so easily? How can you delete memories as if they didn't matter? As if those weren't some of the best times in your life.

I come to the picture of us holding hands. I had been so happy that day. Everything seemed perfect in that moment. His hand in mine, our hands perfectly intwined. I'm not ready to let him go...I'm not sure I ever will be.

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After dinner I get ready for dance. Hair in a pony, shorts on, tank top on. I walk over to the mirror for one more glance. A girl with pain in her eyes, scars on her skin, and a smile on her face stares back at me.

This is who I am. I am a person made up of words of bullies. My clear, dull eyes are stained with tears shed. My body shakes, with scars written everywhere. Reminders of times when my hatred for myself had overcome my senses. Always wearing a smile, for I couldn't dare let others see the pain and hatred I harbored. This is me...