Good Enough

One Year Ago

Disclaimer/author's note/caution: this first part will depicts a scene of attempted suicide. The scenes of self harm are scattered between the book. However, if you are sensitive to these topics, I do not recommend continuing with this chapter. I swear I'm okay, but I had finished reading a book that had a self harm scene and it inspired me to write one of my own. This work is completely my own, and is based off things I've been told and loosely on personal thoughts. I hope you enjoy the story, as I am in no way trying to make fun of the topic. Thank you for reading. This story might only be up for a week anyways. - MM

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Julian

My hand shakes as I unwrap the blade from the tin foil. I touch the top of my finger. Fuck, it's sharp.

Good. It's sharp.

Just do it.
You'll never be good enough. You'll always be less than. You're always going to be second choice. Mom didn't want you. Dad could care less about you. Mateo doesn't know you exist. You'll never live up to him. You'll always be a disappointment, until the day you die. You'll never do anything right.

Just end it. No one's going to miss you. They don't care. Why don't you understand that? They hate you. Everyone.

They pretend to like you but they all know that you're always going to be a disgrace. Nothing but that.
You're not good enough. You never will be.

Less than. Less than. Less than. You're too weak, you can't even handle your own thoughts, you can't even handle a small punch. Can't handle running. Think you're overwhelmed ? You shouldn't be. You don't do anything. Worthless. Worthless piece of shit.

Don't just make one cut, not that way. Go the long way. Dig the blade in deep until it hurts until it hurts so much you black out from the pain.

Think you can't take it? You won't be able to take it. Everyone's knows you're weak. Prove them right.

Stop this. Stop these thoughts and fade into pain. Running used to be enough. It's not anymore. You need something that hurts more. Just do it. You're never going to be good for anything else, at least do the right thing and die so they won't have to be carrying around the burden of your failures.

Hand still shaking, I move the blade over to my left arm. Just two lines. It'll be fast.

No. you deserve to bleed out and suffer. Go slow. Feel every drop of blood that spills out your arms. You need to feel the pain.

Gritting my teeth, I push the tip of the blade in until I see blood appear and I know I've gone deep enough.

A strangled cry of pain escapes my mouth and I clench my jaw more and try to take it. I move the blade down, feeling it cut into me slowly.

"Agh." I gasp out, staggering back against the sink. I should've thought of this more.

I hear the front door slam shut through my thoughts. "Julian! Where the hell are you? Dad told us to make dinner before he gets here!"

I can barely hear Mateo through the white noise in my head.

He pounds on the bathroom door. "Julian! Hurry up. I need to use the bathroom too."

He wasn't supposed to be home. Keep going or he might stop you.

My hand is shaking so much I can't hold the blade right. Stop being such a fucking whiner and do it.  "I-I can't! I can't do it" I yell as tears of frustration gather in my eyes.

Mateo pounds on the door again. "Julian?"

I don't answer as I try again to move the blade down. Nothing! It's barely grazing the surface of my skin.