Don't Get Angry

54- Dalta: Awkwardly Communicating

I sat on Otis' bed with my legs dangling over the edge. He sat in front of me on the floor. There was a bundle of rubber bands on his lap. I ran the comb through his hair and furrowed my brows at how smoothly it ran through it. "Okay," I mumbled.

Otis chuckled. "Having some trouble?"

I giggled. "No." I squinted my eyes at his hair and began to part it into two. I wrapped a rubber band around one side. "Okay," I lifted my hands. "I did something."

He laughed. "Good job... You wanted to talk."

I looked down then nodded. "Yeah. I think we should both do the talking."

"What do you mean?"

"Well?" I started parting another section of his hair. "For starters, you didn't want to stay with me tonight. I fell asleep disappointed and heartbroken-"

"Dalta, you're the one breaking my heart-"

"That's not what I'm referring to. I'm referring to the fact that we've been through all of this crap together. Put our relationship aside."  I began to braid a cornrow into his hair. "I have problems. I know that-"

"Then explain them to me. Tell me why you hurt yourself-"

"Tell me why you're so angry."

He shook his head. "I'm angry because it's a part of my personality-"

"No, it isn't."

"Cutting is not a personality trait-"

"Neither is depression or getting so angry." I squinted at him. "You wanna know why I hurt myself. I understand that, so I'll explain it. But you...you have to tell me why you hurt yourself. If we don't figure out things like this together then we don't have a relationship. We're supposed to build each other up."

"Build each other up for what?" He chuckled sitting up. "For heaven? Or to just die later on in life?"

"See?" I wrapped a rubber band around the end of the braid. "You're getting upset. Why are you upset-"

"I don't know...I..." He rubbed his face.

I parted his hair again and started the second braid. "I hurt myself because I feel like I don't deserve the life that I have..."

He looked at me through his fingers.

"I meet people like you who lack something I have and I feel like I don't deserve it. I was just...born into love. But so many other people in the world didn't get what I got. And...I guess...it breaks my heart that I can't fix that...So, I punish myself for it."

He uncovered his face.

"I know it's stupid. I'm completely aware...but I just...can't help but feel sorry for being well-off. I wish someone else had my life, because I keep messing up and making problems for myself."

He looked down. "I don't know what to say."

"I know... It's not easy to talk about these sorts of things... Feelings other than anger and happiness are hard to describe... But you're safe with me. Whatever we say stays between us, whether we break up or not. It helps to talk... So please talk to me."

"Okay... So...my dad died. He was...he was flying an aircraft, it malfunctioned and he died. Life goes on, right?" He shrugged. "My mother moves on; my little sister doesn't even know what he looked like. She has to look at pictures, and when we talk about him he sounds like some distant relative to her. Or like some fictional hero. While I have to look at him in the mirror every morning and hear his voice out of my own mouth."