A Collection of Short Stories

mental

i'm going to write this in lower case, just to get my point across. when people have a disorder, anxiety, or any kind of mental illness, they tend to feel unimportant- like lower case letters. what gets capitalized? important things. nouns. what are mentally ill people? well, not people to some. we feel unimportant. like the lowercase letters. now onto the story.

sara. that was my name. not that it matters. it's generic and boring. never once had anyone said 'ooh sara, that's a pretty name' or 'wow i wish my name was sara.' never once had a teacher looked twice at my name for pronunciation or had trouble remembering it. it was just plain and boring- like me.

i know i'm boring, other than the occasional rumor that'll fly by every once in awhile. no one can ever prove they're true, but high schoolers will believe anything you tell them. 'oh man, jasmine slept with jacob while she's dating travis?' no, she probably didn't, but you know, whatever is shared must be true. same about me.

'oh she's mentally ill? like those people they lock away in special hospitals?' 'i heard she was tied up in a straight jacket in a mental hospital in north dakota, but was so unstable they got rid of her so watch out.' 'shouldn't she be getting help? like in a hospital?' 'i heard she nearly killed someone at her old school for calling her mental.'

all. day. long.

every. single. day.

non stop.

it's always the same. i don't have to do anything, yet they all assume the worst.

the bell rings for lunch and i quickly make my way to the lady's room- i'm not hungry, i never seem to be anymore.

'pshhh. it's not like you need food to live or anything.'

"be quiet."

'ooooh look whose talking to themselves again. what a loser.'

"stop it."

'you know no one out there gives a damn about you, right? why are you still here? what a waste of oxygen.'

"go away!"

of course, at that moment another student walked in. but just as quickly as she came in, she was out. not long until gossip spreads now. i can already imagine it.

'did you hear she talks to herself? what a freak.' 'i heard she hears voices, hopefully they convince her to leave this place.' 'maybe finally she'll kill herself.'

there it was.

'just do it you wimp, they'll gossip for a week about your disappearance, then forget about you just like that.'

i could hear the snapping sound, it sounded so real.

i locked myself in the farthest stall from the entrance to the bathroom and curled up in a ball on the floor, secretly hoping i'd blend into the walls.

so yeah- that's my life. i can't seem to find a way to escape either. i'm too scared to ask my parents about getting a therapist- id probably waste their time anyway- and talking to anyone would be kind of embarrassing and make me feel silly. but it's not like i have anyone to talk to anyway- i don't have friends believe it or not. rumors about mental illness don't exactly put you on the pedestal for most popular around here.

where is here? not like it matters- just a small town in the middle of boring old missouri- yeah, that one state that no one seems to really know exists even though it's right in the middle of the us map. usually people only know about it if a) they live here or b) they got lost and ended up here trying to get to somewhere more interesting like tennessee or colorado.

the bell rings to go back to class and i awkwardly make my way to 7th period, avoiding eye contact with anyone along the way. the whispers have already begun.

i hear random little clips of 'talks to herself' and 'hears voices'- exactly as i suspected. i hurry to my class and sit down in the back, keeping my head down so that i don't make eye contact with anyone as they come in.

my heart starts to race when i realize that some one is walking towards me, then ends up sitting at the seat next to me. who and why? i sneak a glance over- and to my surprise i don't recognize them. they must be a new student or something because in a small town like this, it's easy to know everyone in your grade level.

"hey, you got a pencil i can borrow?" they ask me. i look at them to confirm they're actually talking to me, then nod my head as i get out my bag to search for another pencil. why me?

i give them a wooden one that i don't care about- knowing that half the time people don't give pencils back anyway and go back to minding my own business.

"i'm erin by the way," they say softly. i simply reply with, "sara." after 7th hour i head to my final class. to my surprise, erin follows me there, and follows me as i exit the building to go home after 8th hour.

"hey, are you alright? not that it's my business if anything is wrong," erin speaks, walking faster to catch up to me.

"i'm good," i reply, keeping my sentences short in he hopes that erin will lose interest and leave.

"look, i don't want anything to happen to you. things spread fast in this school, so i know that you have depression," erin speaks. i stop at their words- freezing in place.

"it's ok sara, i do too," and that was all i needed before i broke down right there. it was strange, breaking down in public. i sunk to my knees, hands in my face. erin goes comes over to comfort me, but i run off at the touch.

'look what you've done, now someone cares. good job moron, you're going to get them hurt.'

"not if i can end whatever this is now."

i make it home and go right into the bathroom. i fill up the bathtub, filling it a little more than half way.

"you won't have to worry about me now."

'go on sara. no one will miss you. bye bye.'

i grab a shaving razor from the medicine cabinet behind the bathroom mirror and break it so that i just have the razors. i sink into the bathtub and sink the razors into my arms as i do so. i scream in pain, but muffle it by submerging my head in the now red water. with the little strength i have left i do the same to my other arm.

i breath heavily, as if that's going to ease the pain. i close my eyes, hoping to fall asleep and never wake up.

'goodnight bitch. no one will miss you.'