undesirable ☾n.h story

6 || awkward lunch shit

*will be edited*

six - chels

-

"mom i'm not going to the doctor!"

i screamed out loud.

"yes you are!" my mom shouts back.

"ughh!"

"i don't understand, i'm fine this whole time, for my whole life i've been like this and you don't seem to mind. but now all of a sudden you're taking me to the doctor?" my throat hurts from shouting too much so i stop shouting and cross my arms over my chest.

i can't believe this.

"all i'm doing here is to help you." she sighed.

"no."

"yes."

"no mom, no! what is your problem anyways? why do you all of a sudden act like this?!" my throat tightens and i feel the hot tears at the brim of my eye.

but i am not going to cry.

"maybe it's because i'm sick of it! i'm sick of hiding you infront of my friends just because you can't handle eye contact with strangers, i'm sick of taking you everywhere when it rains since you're so scared of it and i'm sick of you're pathetic, sad vibe!" she spits.

i widened my eyes to make sure that this -the person infront of me- is actually my mom.

i can't believe what just came out of her mouth.

since my dad died, she's the only one i have.

i know things are getting rough for her lately but i can't believe that she hates me.

my own mother hates me

and she's saying all these painful things that make me wish a bullet could just pass through my heart right now.

i'm actually worthless.

useless.

i don't have any talent,

nor anything to be proud of.

nobody likes me, just hate

hate

hate

hate

"okay." i sniffle my now runny nose.

that's all i'm gonna say, since i can't do anything for anyone maybe i can do this for her to make her happy and to decrease her hate towards me, i hope.

"okay good we're going tomorrow." by that she went back to her small office and leave my shaking, insecure body down the stairs.

fuck now i have a doctor appointment to go to tomorrow.

i hate my life.

-

my fingers trace over the white wall down the hallway inside the hospital.

the smell of antiseptics and a hint of room spray enter my nostrils and up my nose.

hospitals are always clean and sterilized like the one i'm in right now.

i wonder how they keep clean with every single tool they use and if one isn't, then it may cause someone's death.

but i'm drown in my own thoughts now, i'm going to meet a therapist to solve my "problems".

from what i heard in books or from a few people; therapists don't actually help you, all they do is ask you silly questions that make you even more depressed and dismiss you once your done.