The Feeling of Absolutely Nothing

Chapter 3

Leaves
❁
I have too many stories to tell in so little time; so many names to uncover.

I wish it were easier just to say it, just to scream out who or even what is making me so depressed. But it's many things that I can't put my finger on.

It's like a swirl of things bouncing on every wall of my brain and I can't grasp one that just sums up my whole perspective on why I want to die.

Trying to tell someone in a way that they'll understand, trying to say it all without making something up to cover up for your sadness.

It would be 10 times easier just to say that my parents are abusive and evil but they aren't, it would be So easy just to say that I'm faking it, but I'm nkt. It's hard to try and make sense of my own feelings.

My home life was fine all in all, but that doesn't mean that it was great.

As a kid I remember when me and my parents would go outside and find a small tree and pick off its leaves and throw it in the air like confetti and then dance.

But that was when my parents didn't despise each other.

That was when my parents didn't despise me.

Both my parents fought a lot. They would yell at each other constantly about the stupidest things that I would do.

I remember when I was probably 9 or 10, and we were around the table. (my brother was in high school at the time) I had gone for seconds of the potato salad and my mother had stopped me. And my dad got upset because she should just let me get the potato.

They fought that night and when my brother came into my room that night he wouldn't let me forget why they were fighting.

"You did it you know, if you weren't such a fat ass we'd all be asleep by now."

And that's when I realize that I screwed up and I started to cry. And I did something a bad habit that I've had since I was young.

When I was upset or sad at something I've done I'd go into my closet and call myself names. When I think of them now they aren't half as insulting as what I call myself now, but back then it would hurt to hear myself say them.

And instead of screaming, I'd bite my hand. I would bite it so hard it would bleed. It wasn't gushing blood but it was enough to know that I bit hard enough.

As a child I never really put thought into it, I never really took it as a sign I just let it be.

I remember in the 5th grade it was required to have a group therapy sessions with the kids in my class and their parents twice in the school year.

We talked about ways we handle our anger. And when it came to me I said that I painted because of course I wasn't going to say that I bit myself even though it didn't seem wrong to me, it sounded weird in my head.

It got to a girl in my class named Imari Johnson and she said she bit herself and both a mixture of panic and joy flowed through my body, excited because I wasn't alone but worried that she even had the guts to say it.

Anyway, after that they had to speak to her mom and her mom wasn't so happy about it. And that's when I knew that what I did wasn't as okay as I made it to be.

I'm getting off track again, my stories are changing from topic to topic.

I should talk about 7th grade.

7th grade.

Hearing the year in my head is giving me anxiety already.

I went to school and was given looks by everyone. If I thought I was being ignored in the 6th grade, I can't say that much now about my 7th grade year.

I got looks from everyone, but I learned my lesson from the last time I let my guard down. But it only turned me for the worst, whenever I heard a laugh it was me they were laughing at.

When I heard the small whispers, it was me they were whispering about.

Kaylin and I stopped hanging out and whenever she were to talk to me it was to insult me, and remind me how big I was.

Her and Zain started dating that year and it was hell for me when the boy who took the only thing to be proud of myself with wouldn't even talk to me.

He wouldn't look at me, he wouldn't talk to me unless it was to make fun of my appearance as well.

It hurt, it still does; to this day. To this day he won't look at me, he won't even walk my way.

Writing his name on my notebook I shall continue.

Yes, there is still more to my twisted and deranged story. But it only gets worse from here if you thought it reached it's point, you're wrong.

During the middle of the year is when things went down.

I remember walking into the bathroom that day Kaylin and her friends so happened to be there when I decided to walk in.

I saw their faces and tried to turn away but pulling me by my hair they kept me hostage in the bathroom.

They locked the bathroom door keeping me held down.

I can recite word for word what they told me that day and I remember vividly just how traumatizing they...

I can't...

I can feel myself edging closer to the edge of the bridge way closer than I already am.

I have to change the topic I'll move on to 8th grade, I'll talk about anything else but I can't now.

Kaylin is still my friend at heart and I like to believe that what she did was for my own good.

Because if she hadn't done what she did who knows maybe I wouldn't be here today.

And all though they make death to be such a horrible thing, in my case it's only for the best.

Everyone's life would do 100 times better if I just flew up like the the leaves in my confetti party except I wouldn't come back down.

I would be carried away in the wind never to be seen again.

Away

Away