Driving home, I couldn't keep myself from smiling. Reliving everything that happened on our date. All of the smiles, the laughs, the knowledge shared all in a short few hours.
As I pull into my house I am met with the awful thing called reality. I open my car door and I can already hear my parents screaming at each other from intense the house.
All of those happy positive thoughts just immediately left and the ones that E made disappear, can be tumbling back in to replace them.
They are screaming. Mom and (step) dad. Always screaming. Always threatening to divorce each other or move away. And sometimes when it gets really bad, I pray that they do. That they do get a divorce. That they can finally give up this feud that they have with one another. They are never home. Always far away from each other. But when they are. They never acknowledge me. Never ask how I am or how my day was. All of their attention is focused on each other and how awful they are in each others eyes. Never focused on their daughter. Their daughter who is clearly falling apart right in front of them and they are to involved in themselves that they haven't noticed.
They haven't noticed that I stopped eating. I am way thinner. There are visible cuts up and down my arms. There are bags underneath my eyes. And how unhappy I truly am. I look like hell. And not only have they not noticed, but they haven't even acknowledged by presence, the same thing has happened with everyone else in my life.
I quietly make my way into the house and into my bedroom. I slowly close my door, careful to make a noise. And even if I did, they wouldn't have noticed anyways.
I make my way to my desk. Sitting down at the chair and looking straight back at myself through my reflection in the mirror. I slowly take my makeup off, and get changed into my pjs. And wondering how much longer I can put up a fake smile.
I stand up and make my way to be bathroom that is connected to my room. I close the door and lock it. I walk over to the vanity, pull the top drawer on the left out as far as it will go and reach for the razor. I fish it out and move from hand to hand, over and over again, before finally having it in ny right hand, extending my left in front of me, I bring the razor up to my arm, trying to find skin that isn't already marked up. And slice. Five cuts. One for M, one for P, one for D, one for Mom and one last one for Dad. I watch as the blood drips down my arm and into the sink. I apply pressure and bandage my arm. It's become routine.
I step out of my bathroom once the mess I made has been cleaned and make my way to lie in my bed. I don't even sleep anymore. I stay awake. Once I sleep, my demons are stronger than ever. They take every good thing in my life, put it in one big dream and make it all turn to shreds. So sleep is not an option. So I stay awake. Never sleeping.
I write. I write down my thoughts, my feelings, what happened in my life that day. Or I text S. S stays up till 1 in the morning. So I always have someone to talk to till then. We talk about how our lives are. What's been happening in them, what's happening in school. Anyone cute guys.
So I got up out of my warm, comfy bed and go on a search for my phone to one, see if S is not busy with homework and two, to start writing. I write everything in my phone. If anyone was to go on my phone, they would be able to see what really goes on in my life.
I see my phone on my desk, next to dirty makeup removers. And its glowing. I never have any notifications. Weird. I pick it up and smile.
YOU ARE READING
Story of J
General FictionJ wants to kill herself. She thinks that she will never find love, even though she wants that cliche high school relationship. She thinks that when she's gone, no one will even notice until the news comes on and tells everyone what happened. But wha...
