Love & Self Loathing

7/3/16.1

Jasmine's POV
"Jasmine!" I heard a holler from downstairs.

She's calling me for breakfast, this being about the 5th time. She's always trying to get me to get out of my room and eat. I know if I don't go down, I'll be forced out. Better for me to just make myself go. I might not be hungry, but I guess it's better than the physical pain. Although sometimes I don't even need to be doing anything, sometimes she drinks too much. Sometimes her and her boyfriend get into a fight and she needs somewhere to take out all the anger. I don't understand why she's with that guy. He's abusive. Who would want to be near someone like that?

I'm not in the same shoes as her. She has a choice to leave, she doesn't have to take medication or to have a babysitter. She's a grown women with no mental illnesses. She knows how to control herself. She just chooses not too. She chooses to pretend like everything is okay, to make it look like she's happy. Me on the other hand. I don't like pretending. I don't like being happy.

I haven't always been like this. I use to be normal. I had friends, I did well in school, I laughed and loved myself. I was never suicidal. I never had a reason to. When I was in grade school, I had a really good friend, but by 9th grade we lost touch. Mostly because he ended up in a mental hospital because he had a horrible breakdown. That's when he and his family discovered his mental illness. I'm not sure how long he had his for before finding out. I had mine since I was 4 or at least that's what I remember. The doctors said I could've had it my entire life. They also said I that when I fell off my bike at the age of 4, that could have helped form it. They said I would be a ticking time bomb. They said I would blow up like my friend. I never has a breakdown, I only ever attempted suicide twice. After the second time I was out under house arrest. She makes sure I eat, get my medicine and that I'm babysat. Everything about this is fine with me.

I opened my door and slowly walked out. I'm always wearing all black, black hoodie, pants, shoes. I slowly, one foot at a time, walked down the stairs. Kind of hoping I would slip and die, but that never happens. I walked into the dining room and took a seat. My house looks like a crazy cat lady's house. She's a hoarder. She's loves junk. It doesn't usually effect me, I'm usually stuck in my room. She put a plate in front of me, one where she will be sitting and one at the end of the table. She sat down and smiled at me. She's kind of tall, brunette hair with dark green eyes. She always wants me to smile.

"Well, eat up." She smiled bigger.

I started to eat. I wasn't hungry, but i guess it's good. I hate how she pretends to be my friend. I hate how she tries to be a mother. I just hater her. I hate how she always sets an extra plate, like she's trying to torture me. She knows that's the only thing that I feel for. The only thing I ever really cared about.

"How's the food, Jas?"

I hate being called Jas.

"Why do you do this?" She's annoyed now.

I didn't say anything, I didn't even look at her.

"Why must you always ignore me?"

"I guess the same reason why you always set that extra plate." I shrugged, still avoiding eye contact.

"And what's the reason?"

I dropped my fork gently, "To annoy each other. However, I guess I don't really try to annoy you, seeing as being antisocial is one of the many reasons why I'm crazy."

"How dare you! I would never purposely annoy you!" She slammed her hands on the table and abruptly stood up.

"Then why do you set that extra plate? Is it to constantly remind me that it was my fault and I could've stopped it?" I'm always so calm.

She didn't say anything. I knew looking up would be a bad idea, but when I think about what happened, it's almost like my brain forces me. When I do look up, I get slapped. This time the pain was what I needed. I stood up and went upstairs. I could hear her yelling in the background. I ignored it, seeing as if it wasn't to be an issue.

When I got to my room, I began to put my laptop, phone charger, some clothes, my medicine and some money I saved up into my black backpack. I calmly walked back downstairs, where she was still yelling. I still ignored her. I opened the front door and left. She knows that I do this sometimes. She knows that I come back. But not this time. I'm gone for good.

This chapter will continue in the chapter.