"Too good to be good for me, Too bad that that's all I need."
//Some chapter will have TW written at the top if I decide they need a trigger warning//
[COMPLETED]
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Boi 666 reads, I'm so proud. Also, BRuH how tf did that happen? Like two weeks ago this had thirty reads or something. Thank you frens!!
My mind erupts into panic for a few moments, just like every Monday morning when I hear my goddamn alarm. All days are bad, making me want to take away my own existence, but Mondays are the worst by a long shot. Over the weekends' people like Max, Anthony, etc, come up with more ways to make my life living hell and more disgusting insults.
I could just not come in on Monday, but then it would all happen on Tuesday, and so on. Basically, there's no stopping it. It's best just to get it over with, like everything else in my life. Around twenty minutes later, and I'm fully dressed, in my oversized pastel sweater, a pair of black jeans, and white converse, laces tied in neat little bows. At last, I place one of my many flower crowns atop my head, this one with cute, little white flowers on.
I hate what I see whenever I look in the mirror. I love the outfit, of course, but the image I see in the mirror is an ugly boy with a pretty casing of pastel colours. I don't like the ugly boy. The ugly boy is fragile and shattered beyond repair, and I hate him. I hate myself.
Before setting off, I pick up my phone from my bedside table, turning it on to check the time. Crap. I must've set my alarm an hour early, as it's currently seven am, not eight am, which is when I usually leave my flat in the mornings. I don't have to leave yet, but I don't exactly want to sit around this place doing nothing for an hour.
I open the kitchen door, walking in and making myself a bowl of cereal. I eat weirdly, I don't not eat, but I don't eat much. Sometimes I'll have snacks, or sometimes I'll eat a meal. All I know is I eat less than I should; because my body is gross. It seems impossible for me to loose weight, my stomach still sticks out and my thighs are still thick. It's probably because I don't do any exercise besides from walking across the room to grab the tv remote, but that's not going to change anytime soon.
I finish my breakfast and leave my flat, pastel blue backpack slung loosely over one shoulder. I make the decision to sit by one of my favourite places, which is ten or so minutes away from the school; a large tree blooming with the most excellent blossoms. I know when I'm approaching it, because the light pink of the tree sticks out over the top of the nearby houses, and that's precisely what I can see now. My pace picks up slightly, but not too much. I get easily tired out these days.
The grass is soft as I sit myself down, leaning my back against the trunk of the tree. I want nothing more than to stare at the current sunrise, watching as the sky goes from dark to bright because of the flaming ball of light. No sun could remove my dark.
It's funny how I don't even notice forty minutes pass as I stare at the sky, but it does. Thirty minutes till lessons start, and after ten of those minutes I've reached my maths classroom, passing Chris and Pj in the halls, who are two people that haven't tried to verbally or physically attack me, so I suppose I don't hate them. Only one other person is stood in the halls outside of the maths rooms, Phil Lester. He's in the class below me, but I guess our classrooms are next to each other.
He turns around, probably having heard me approaching, so I look down at the ground. I don't know why, but I'm embarrassed. I don't want to see him and I don't want him to see me, though I don't hate him. I can stand him. I've now made a sudden decision; I want a friend.
"Uh, hi." I say, still keeping my gaze at the ground.
