🥞⃞̸⃮⃯ິ̷᩼⃔᭧ • 𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 • [ OLD ]

•I'm here too•

This chapter contains suicidal content

Only read at your own risk 😳

(Note this is based off of a YT video. I forget the name lmao- but I watched it a long time ago and I figured it was a good plot.)
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_Harumi's POV_

I always thought it was impossible to feel alone. After all. I'm surrounded by people, right? I have the best group of friends anyone could ask for. They're kind, supportive, funny, and they're always there for me when I feel down. And my boyfriend Lloyd Garmadon.....he's the sweetest boy I've ever met. In highschool, when I was new to the whole system after being adopted out of the royal family with my sisters into another home, he helped me. And all my friends gush about it and tease us, always saying that we'll end up together forever and that were nothing but love birds 24/7.

My older sister, Brooke, shes inspiring to me and the rest of the family. She's supportive. My adoptive mother and father though, despite they're occasional fights are still together and perfectly happy. And I admire that. As for my younger sister, Jasmine, and despite her average, sarcastic teenage attitude, I cherish more than anything. I love them all deeply. They're the perfect family. Or. At least that's what it seems. Or that's what I want people to see. Because it's easier that way. Easier than telling the truth about them. And being judged about it, being ridiculed, and made to feel isolated from others.

I feel like I'm not normal sometimes. Whatever that means or is. But the truth is..everything isn't infact perfect. I'm at a point in my life where I'm sick of hiding the truth. Sick of feeling alone. Sick of....living. People around me think, "What an attention seeker. You're only looking for attention." "What gives you the right to feel depressed?"  That's the thing about depression. It's like a mask. It doesn't give a fuck what you think...

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I gently sat on my very cover filled bed, staring into the wall across from me. I stayed dead silent. It was so quiet in my room you could hear a pin drop. I feel empty inside. My so called perfect family isn't so perfect. They never make time for me, I'm like the imperfection in this family. Everyone avoids me, or just makes fun of me. I don't get what I ever did to them. In school I have to wear a mask. So people don't see my scars, or insecurities. I'm still going through the trauma of watching my parents die in the collapsing building years and years ago. My sister's seemed to have gotten over it. After all. Jasmine was just a baby. So she doesn't remember. Brooke never even mentions them, and whenever I bring them up she just ignores me and goes on her phone.

I hide my true feelings from my boyfriend as well. I truly love him and he loves me, but I feel like he wouldn't support me for how I feel. I feel like he's the same as everyone else. Even though I know he's not. I just can't help it. My mindset is always set on the negative. I can never stop thinking about how shitty life during and after school is. Not just for me. But for everyone else in my situation.

I rolled up my sleeves to reveal multiple gashes up and down my wrists that were still full of hardened blood, and still hurt like hell. Those were the old ones. The new ones were skimmed lines, not yet overlapped by another batch of new cuts. It relives me of my pain. It's become an addition. I gently ran my green painted fingernail against one of the scars, wincing a few times as my delicate, shaky finger tip brushed one of the fresh cuts.

I pulled my sleeves back down and pulled them over my hands, clutching the edge of the sleeve with my shaking fingers, I shakily stood up and made my way to the small bathroom that was connected to my room, only my quiet breathing and the pitter patter of my feet being heard as they trudged against the cold, marble floors. Yes, my family was quite rich, but money doesn't bring happiness. I looked at myself in the mirror, to see multiple layers of masks. Liar. Selfish. Guilty. Suicidal. Lonely. Happy. I leaned against the sink and let my hair tower over my forehead as I let a few stray tears stream down my cheeks.