My Pathetic Life

February 15, 2020

Saturday
-tw-
9:00 pm
     Oliver didn't eat his mouse. I have to throw it away. Poor thing. I ask my mom if I can take Oliver to the vet. She says I'll have to ask my dad. Shit.

     I promised I would make my parents breakfast for Valentine's day today. I have a great idea. I love baking and cooking and all that shit, and I've baked pretty much anything you can think of.

     I've had this idea for a while. Rose crepes. You make crepes and roll them up to look like roses with Nutella and strawberries/bananas in the middle. They look much better than I thought they would. I'll attach a picture. I make two plates of those and throw together an omelet. They love it. I make some for my sister as well.

     I end up eating a plain crepe and a tiny donut for breakfast. I'm too tired to make crepes for myself. Suddenly, I get a text.

Sort-of-friend: " Hey! I know it's extremely short notice and I'm not sure if you have lessons or not, but if you're up for it you can come over around 1:30, my mom wants to take me and my siblings out to the cat cafe and you're more then welcome to join!"

     Did she just...invite me? Willingly ask me to hang out? And I didn't have to make the first move? Is this what friends are like? I suppose I'll change her name from sort-of-friend to friend. A cat cafe as well. I'm hyped. I can't believe she actually thought of me to go with her. Insane. 

     I need to clean my room and shower. Shit, shower. I can do it. For my friend.

11:00 pm
     Ok shower time. I can do it. No procrastinating. No last 30-minute youtube video. For the cat cafe. Come on.

11:30 pm
I'm sitting on the bathroom floor pressed into the corner reading a story on my phone. I can't bring myself to get up. What's the point? Shower now. Now. My mom yells at me for not doing anything. For being lazy. I bite my finger, hard. I want to cry. I hate myself. Why am I like this? Maybe I shouldn't go to that stupid cafe. I just want to die. I'm so fucking lazy. And ugly. And horrible. I want to slice my skin but it leaves too many scars. I scratch myself instead, so hard it leaves deep red marks. Why am I like this?

12:00 pm
I showered with water so it hot it burns until I become numb to the pain. Pain. I need more pain. I claw at my thigh but my skin is wet. Not enough pain. Teeth. I'll bite myself. I have to stop because it feels like I'm going to take a chunk out of my arm but it's still not enough. There must be somewhere inconspicuous I can cut. I choose my ankle. Just one, no one will notice.

My razor is dirty. I can't use it. Scissors it is. They're so dull. I scratch and scratch and scratch. A thin line of blood appears but it's not enough. Eventually, I finish my one slice which is bleeding. I go to the bathroom to clean up. I need to disinfect my razor somehow. I just want to be old enough to move out. Then I can cut as much as I damn want to. No one can make me go to doctor appointments or wear short sleeves.

     It's been a year and a half since I've done this but god it feels good. The pain is gone too soon. Just one more. That's it. Shit, does it look obvious? I'll just say I walked through a sharp bush or I don't know how they got there. My socks should cover them enough. It's so hard to drag myself away from the scissors. Fuck, it just feels so good. I need to make sure these don't leave scars. Neosporin, band-aids and avocado oil should do it.

     I smear Neosporin on them. I don't have any band-aids right now. I'll do it later. Just wait until I'm old enough to move out. Nothing will stop me then. I remember I should get back in the habit of putting avocado oil on my old scars. I need them to fade. They can't be there.

My cuts sting but I need to clean my room. I want more pain. When is it enough? I slam my fist into my arm. Again. And again. Come on, come on, come on. It hurts so much. It's finally enough for now. I relish the numbness that spreads through my arm. I've missed this.