to be honest

one - I want to die

To be honest, I want to die. I'm alone, in my room. It's 11:04 pm. I'm not allowing myself to sleep. I wont allow myself to sleep. I can't sleep. I need to be awake in case he gets home today. In case he was only there for a day. But I know he wont. But I need to stay awake. Because all it will be is blank. It wont be nightmares and it definitely wont be dreams.

I told him that I'd love to have nightmares that I couldn't wake up from unless to an alarm. Ones that would make me suffer and isolate me. I need to be isolated. I already feel alienated. 

The drawings, paintings and animations I do, they do nothing. They show people I'm in pain but it doesn't make the pain go away. I want to paint a very beautiful thing. But when I do I paint blood. I paint hurt. I paint pain. I paint pain, suffering, abuse, and most importantly I paint empty. I paint how my emptiness feels. I want to get it out. When I do, I don't feel empty. I fill up, but I don't notice until I try to feel for the emptiness but all I get back is comfort.

I want to die. I want to walk through the highway at night. I want to smash a window or light bulb and cut. I want to beat myself up. But I made a promise to him that I wouldn't hurt myself. But I already cut my finger. I already felt pain and watched the blood spill. I wanted more. More blood. More pain. Just to be numb.

He left school on Friday for a doctor appointment. He doesn't have a name. He wont get a name. I love him. He loves me. I checked my phone at lunch, because I threw it and my iPod in my book bag first period due to lack of pockets in my skinny jeans. I checked my phone and broke apart.

"I had a doctor appointment"

"I'm not coming back to school"

"I won't be going to the football game"

"I'm in the emergency room"

Silence.

I respond with whats and whys. But he didn't explain. He doesn't explain. He doesn't know how to explain. I understand that. But I want him to try. And he doesn't. And she comes over and comforts me. I'm crying at lunch. I'm having a panic attack at lunch. People around me are laughing and I'm crying in front of anyone. Touch feels nice. Touch feels like comfort. This is what friends are supposed to do. I blame myself for wishing I was back in the hospital. I blame myself for wanting to die. I blame myself. I blame myself because it feels right. I blame myself because it makes sense. I want to die. I look up after a while, lunch isn't quite over. My brother is over by his friend. I walk over hiding my face. Trying to ignore everyone staring at me. Trying to ignore everyone laughing at me. I hug him because I trust him and I need it.

"What's wrong?"

"Tana what's wrong?"

I choke out words but I can't get much. A teacher I don't like asks if we need to go somewhere. We go to her room. She leaves. My brother and I are alone and I'm crying wrapped in my brothers arms because I need him. He means everything to me. He is my life. I love him. I told my brother what I knew.

"I know what you're going through."

How could you possibly know. You haven't had girlfriends put into hospitals by there parents when they're perfectly fine. He isn't perfectly fine. But He was fine. No. He is fine. He needs to be fine. He needs to be fine for me. Because I can't be fine. And I don't know if he's fine so he needs to be fine. He needs to be here to make me fine. But He isn't here. And I'm suffering.

I don't remember exactly what happened. But I know my brother tried to call my mom, but she didn't answer. She didn't answer all the times I called her. All the times I texted her that she needed to come get me. It wasn't a question. It was a command. She needed to come get me. Because I was breaking at school. I can't break at school. My brother took me home to her house. That was okay. My father got mad because my brother wanted to take me. Because mom wasn't answering and I needed to leave. But it was okay.

It had to be okay.

We left the room, and 5th period had started by now. We went to the office and signed out because I needed to go home. I grabbed my book bag from my now emptied lunch table. I had to check to see if my glasses and iPod where in there because I left them on the table and brought just my phone with me. 

We went out to his car and drove to mom's. I didn't talk much but he made me laugh. I didn't have emotions. I was crying and laughing and getting hiccups from laughing but I didn't have emotions. I couldn't have emotions. I thought the bad bad stuff was done happening to me. But it wasn't done. It isn't done.

We got to moms and I set my stuff down on the chair and went right to my dog. My brother went to my mom. She wasn't answering because she was at a massage appointment. I can't blame her. Sometimes she hurts. That isn't her fault.

I miss him. He said he'd be gone a few days. Just a few. But a few can turn into a week and soon enough it's two weeks then a month, then another month, another, another and another. Then its a year. I'd die.