Dear Nobody

Entry 8: How I Ended Up Staying Home

5.39 AM
I can't. No. I got a Bermuda Triangle breakout. Evil forces are at it again already. Three pimples. Middle of my forehead. Visible to anyone with a functioning sight. No. I can't. I can't go to school like this. Everyone's gonna think I'm gross. I'll be bullied. Or just whispered about. "Did you see Lisa? Wow, I get to witness the Bermuda Triangle and live to tell the story!" No. "She's so ugly." No. No. No.

What do I do? Fake a headache? Stomachache? But my mom hates it when I'm not in school. I don't want her to look at me like I'm unwanted at home. Might get a real stomachache. Crap. How much water do I have to drink to get sick? Probably too much. Anything I can eat that'll make me vomit? I haven't barfed since kindergarten. Crap. Shit. Hell. God, what did I do? What did I do? Is this for talking behind everyone's backs? I'm sorry. I'd feel guilty if I said it to Stephanie so I just talked about it with myself. I don't wanna be the people I dislike. I'm sorry. Crap. I'm crying. I can't see what I'm typing. I'm just holding in my sobs.

8.03 AM
I went to my dad. Holding back my tears, I told him I didn't wanna go to school. He asked why. And I started let my tears fall. I was too embarrassed to say why. So. He stood up and hugged me. Tried to ask the right questions. He was confused. He knows I hate school, but he doesn't know much.

I'm home. When I'm supposed to be in school. My dad's at work. When my mom wakes up, I'm doomed. I might hide in my room.

1.21 AM
I peeked into the living room where my mom was watching the TV. "Mom?"

"You were home today?" she said, her face looking the same as always.

I nodded.

"Why?"

"I... couldn't go to school."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want anyone to see me."

Then she left the couch and went to stand in front of me. Her coldness was right in my face.

"Because of your pimples?"

I nodded. "They're ugly."

"You almost can't see them!" she lied.

"They're obvious to anyone within a mile," I groaned.

Her sigh signaled her defeat. Then she somehow noticed. "Haven't you eaten?"

"... No."

"Why?"

All these whys.

"I felt like I didn't deserve to."

"Nonsense," she said, going back to the couch. "Eat leftover spaghetti."

I nodded slowly.

Well. I suppose it could've been worse. Is that optimism? Annoying.

2.43 PM
I feel so bad for staying home. Guilty. And I don't know why. I love being home. I'd rather be here than in school. So why? It's always like this when I'm home instead of in that hellhole.

My grades are decent, but I don't wanna go to college. I wouldn't survive. I can't even see my future. I can't work with people. Can't have responsibility. Can't serve customers. I have no talent. Can't draw, can't write, can't sing, can't act, can't dance. There's not any space for me. I have no place in this world.

5.42 PM
My dad bought me a smoothie and nine chicken nuggets from McDonald's. I'm gonna get fat. I don't even deserve such tasty treats after staying home. Is my dad trying to guilt me into going to school tomorrow? Sigh. Thanks a whole damn lot.