Waking up, the room is dark, silent and smells of the spaghetti I left on my bedside table last night is lingering throughout the room. I take a glance at my alarm clock it shows 6:05 am. Rolling sluggishly out of bed I fall off and land face down on the floor, the floor is cold it cools the pain or the bruises on my cheek and the cuts on my fists. I stand up and slowly fully extending my arms far above my head yawning. Walk to my bathroom grabbing a towel out of the closet and cleaning the crusted blood from my knuckles and gentle grazing over my bruises. Starting to get ready I eat some Lucky Charms and get dressed in my everyday jeans, flannel, beanie, and Vans. I have 23 minutes to spare, so I sit down on the couch clearing all the bottles my mom left there from last night and open up my old poetry journal with tiny t-rexes doodled on the cover from last year. I begin to write: "People hide in darkness, so they are not hurt by the cruel words from people that are different, but sometimes we need to come out into the light and show those people that look down upon us that we are not bad people, in fact, we are not so different from them. So step up and say this is the way I am and who cares what other people think about us because we are staying!". Well, It's time to go so I quickly tuck my book back onto the shelf above my fireplace grab my jacket and go out the door quietly so I don't wake my mom.
YOU ARE READING
Done (Depression Story)
Teen FictionA story about a young male named Even Miller who has trouble in school and at home. At the same time, he has trouble with his girlfriend and mom. He has mental issues and has trouble with himself. Read for more details.
