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Friday 4/13/11 - Saturday 4/14/11

Warning : This is not about true events and is a 100% fictional story.

I could feel the gravel under my feet. My shoes had thin soles that gave way under my weight every time I took a step. As I got closer my eyes got clearer and I saw the dim light on my porch up ahead. The air was foggy. My breath was ragged, I was exhausted and aggravated. I forgot my headphones so the only thing I had to distract myself from my thoughts was my heart beat. My slow and steady, barely there, heart beat. My brain was fuzzy and every thought was racing through my head all at once. I was always like this, miserable. I couldn't escape a prison I had made for myself.

I was at my door now. The doorbell rang even though I knew by now my mom would not be home for a few hours and when she finally arrived she would explain how tired she was and that she was sorry even though she wasn't. I turned the handle and walked through the door hanging my bag on the stairway railing. The house smelled of cigarette smoke and last nights old dinner that was still sitting on the kitchen table. As soon as I gathered myself, I ran up the stairs ripping off my clothes. My chest binder came last and I contemplated unrolling the bandages. It hurt so bad and I could feel it taking the air of my lungs with every rise of my chest. The pain was atrocious, but I kept it on anyway since the pain of having to see that I wasn't what I felt I was, but rather what everyone else thought I was, was worse.

I picked up my old stained hoodie from my floor and put it over my head, slowly pulling it down over my body. I layed on my bed cuddling into the pillow that was once in my eyes perfect and that is now something tattered and ruined. I gripped my blanket that was curled around my entire body and inhaled the nostalgic scent. I remember sitting at the table eating with my parents laughing and giggling like nothing in the world could ever go wrong. It's weird how a world can seem so simple in a six year old's eyes. I didn't have to question anything about myself, I didn't have to deal with being isolated and the constant voices telling me I will never be okay. My eyes flutter closed and my memory fades as the bed becomes softer and my pillow becomes warmer slowly putting me to sleep.

In an instant I'm sitting up in my bed. The door slammed shut and I run down stairs to see my mother stumbling into the house. I put her arm around my neck helping her walk her drunken body over to the couch. She mumbles something incoherently. I take the cigarette out of her mouth and put it in the astray after I cover her with a blanket. In no time at all she's fast asleep and I'm sitting beside her just watching. I don't blame her really. She found her escape in this horrid place we live in, it's just too bad it's alcohol and nicotine.

I lift my body of the couch and wander into my kitchen. I pick up the glass dish on the table that held the remnants of of a lasagna I had made just the night before. I held the dish over the trash can and lightly scraped off the food, being sure not to scratch it. By the time I was finished cleaning the stacks of dishes in the sink it was already midnight. I watched the clock and how the green segments of number would change with every passing minute. I could hear my breath, trying to focus on slowing in so I wouldn't cry. I looked at the tile floor I'd grown up with. Old rusty tile with outdated blue diamonds on it held memories of something so pure I forgot what it felt like; happiness. I shook my head, refocusing my brain and grabbed whatever was left in the pantry, heading upstairs once again hoping to sleep before sunrise.

I wake up to the sunlight gleaming through my dirty glass window and piercing my eyes. My blanket is in a heap on the floor all tangled over itself. I can feel every joint is my back as I slowly sit up from my bed. The floor creaks even though I walk slowly and lightly. I turn the knob on my bathroom door not wanting my breath to smell bad despite the fact my mom won't notice anyway. My tooth brush is old and the bristles are worn out from being used every day. I brush my teeth for few minutes before picking up my hair brush and combing through the light knots in my short hair. The hair was one of the only things I didn't mind about myself.