"Fuck it," I whisper shouted and sat against the door in my bathroom.
I traced my eyes up and down my arms. I made them ugly. I regret it so much. Ever since I started.
I am so fucking lonely.
She's lying. You're not worth telling whoever it is she really loves.
"Shut up," I whisper and wipe my forehead.
I pull my hand down as it felt wet from the touch to my head. I close my eyes realizing I had wiped my blood onto my face.
My chest radiated with the anxiety. I bit my lip, staring at the shiny metal that I still had in between my fingers.
You're a joke.
A whimper escapes my lips. My mind only spake the truth.
It's not that I didn't love her, it seemed so believable, but who was I to say she wasn't a good actor?
Why are you so fake? Sure, show everyone you're happy, and where did that get you? You got her hurt, it's your fault.
"No it's not!" I fight with my own thoughts.
"David! We're having dinner soon!" My mother calls.
My eyes travel to the small piece of sharp metal once again, with this tiny object I ruined my body. I couldn't help it. I thought it would help.
Tears fall from my eyes. How do I cover this up? Who will notice during soccer or track?
She's gonna think I don't like her, but that's fine. She doesn't like me, right?
Who am I asking anyways? These are my thoughts.
Just fucking kill yourself.
"I don't want to," I sob.
You'll do everyone a favor.
"I can't."
Fine. Pussy.
I can't even fight my own thoughts. My own arguments. Am I so two sided?
I stare at my ugly self-scarred arms on my ugly body. I chuck the razor against the side of the shower from across the bathroom out of frustration and throw my head into my hands. I won't escape this.
I'm crazy for even talking to myself like this. I stare up at the cabinet. What hides in there might help. Can help.
It's old medicine dumbass. It's not gonna do anything you dumb fuck. Might as well throw it out.
Right.
"David! Dinner!"
"Shit." I jump up.
I wipe my arms and my face, then pull down the black sleeves of my shirt. I throw the towel that I used to wipe up the blood into the laundry hamper. Unlocking the door of the bathroom, I skip out to my room and shuffle down the stairs and into the kitchen where my mom is setting things on the table and all of my siblings sit. For once we are having family dinner.
"Hey guys," my dad walks in and gives my mom a kiss on the cheek. I sit at the table fiddling with my hands in my lap.
"Hi David!" Toby jumps onto me.
"Hey guys."
"Yeah, hey," Ester mutters showing no attention while staring and tapping away at her phone.
My eyes drop back to my lap.
"How's that girl we met David?" My mom asks.
"A girl? David has a girl?" Ester laughs.
