Martyr

Chapter 2

Alice

i will never understand boys.

quiet ones, especially. they're confusing clusterfucks, they are. girls are so in touch with their emotions and can admit things, guys are all like, "oh, i'm too manly."

like, i can say that i hate myself, i can admit that. i can say that this is the fourth time i've been to group therapy for something. this time, it was starving myself. wow.

when i'm not at group, or school, i'm smoking/doing various drugs, and if i'm not doing that, i'm sleeping. sleep is for the weak, though and let me say, i've got bags under my eyes... under the bags of my eyes.

my parents, you see, are a big factor in the fuck up known as alice a.k.a. me. i mean, besides the obvious factor that they had sex and the byproduct of it was me, they've been pressuring me.

i even came up with equations for it:

alice's parents + alice + alice's problems = stress for the whole family

stress for the whole family + alice's parents = more stressed out parents

more stressed out parents + alice = low tolerance of alice's actions

low tolerance of alice's actions + alice's parents = pressure

pressure + alice = anxiety^2 +/- psychotic depression + 2(anorexia + life)

alice + all this bullshit = unhappiness, pure, black unhappiness.

that probably didn't make sense, but i am fascinated with math, and even if that equation doesn't make sense, the variables in it do. they're all so real.

anyway, things have been even more tense since a month ago or so. i fucked up, we all fucked up. my dad and i, at least. we were together, and something happened to someone.

neither of us can forget it.

so i called 911 that day, then i went home, scared shitless. then, i realized i couldn't sleep the entire night. then, i decided not to eat for a while. then, i ended up where i am today.

group therapy.

i was so damn close to being happy again, though. it was the day i thought, man, the air is fresh, the sun's bright, i got smokes and friends, life isn't all too bad. but then, things got complicated and life was all too bad. it always had to come out that way.

despite this, i've been using group therapy to my advantage. i tell people my problems, they listen, they sympathize me. for once, someone listens to me. i know everyone in group is just as fucked up as me, just in their own little way.

currently, it's 4:01 pm and group is just starting! it's wednesday, god i love wednesdays. i'm dressed in just the usual, leggings and a large sweater. fuck if it's spring, right?

there's this guy who's sitting right across from me, he's always arrogant during group. he's honestly an ass, but he's in a wheelchair, so i guess he has to be. he says his name's parker, but you just can't trust people, can you? i always see him staring right back at me, squinted eyes and furrowed brows. he's so vulnerable on the inside, i know it. his eyes may seem angry, but there's a certain gentleness to them. pure, green... they can't be all angry and spiteful.

"share something," i mouth to him. parker crosses his arms, shakes his head, and looks away. it's all extremely fluid, it's as though he's been practicing.

jennifer, the person who runs the group therapy program, notices our air conversation and asks, "hey, you two, what's going on here?" neither of us answer. "parker, alice, please share with the group."

i smugly smile as parker gets all defensive. "she was forcing me to share, staring at me and stuff," he says flatly. parker manages to fix his hair back up with his crossed arms and all, that's pure talent.

"well, alice is right, we don't know a single thing about you!" jennifer over-excitedly exclaims, "tell us about yourself, c'mon, just a bit!"

that seemed to piss parker off even more. "fine," he asserts, "i'm parker nordhoff, i'm sixteen. i go to westlands high school. i'm single, straight, cisgender, and i hate group therapy. i used to play football and shit before this bullshit happened, now i'm here. i have two brothers, two sisters. they care about all this bullshit." wow, how angry. but he's single and straight and cisgender, i had to like that. i think i'd be angry too if i had four other siblings and i was the only one in a wheelchair.

"good job, parker, you're really improving. you're going to get back into it all, don't worry!" jennifer assures him.

parker slightly smiles, uncrossing his arms. "glad to hear that someone has faith in me."

i have faith in you, parker. i have faith in everyone, just not myself.

i have faith, just believe me.