I Am Not Okay With This (Me Either)

Self Hatred and Benadryl

Lee had seen the boy with curly hair and the girl with red hair for a few days now. It was nearing the end of the week. Sort of. Is Wednesday almost the end of the week? No, that's the middle of the week. Anyway, things between them seemed tenser than usual. He seemed to be swooning, and she seemed- annoyed? Guilty? Lee had an acute ability to read people, but the redhead's vibe was totally throwing her off.

Their dynamic was interesting. Lee had been watching them interact (not in a creepy way, more for entertainment purposes). He seemed so.. nice. And she seemed like a total bitch. Lee had seen her talking to a tall, darker girl the other day. In this interaction, the redhead seemed like the lovesick puppy. But she hadn't seen them together, or even near each other. It was strange to Lee. She had seen an awkward exchange between them, (it was only eye contact, but their body language spoke for itself). She figured something happened.

Today wasn't too bad for Lee. Nobody was really staring at her all that much. She occasionally saw someone gawk at her clothes, but that's something she didn't care about.

Lee Leighton Richards was very... Individualistic. She dressed how she pleased, and if it weren't for her crippling anxiety, she'd speak her mind too.

When Lee arrived home, she opened the door to see her mother, passed out on the couch.

She sighed. It was nothing too out-of-the-norm. It was just disappointing. Lee just wished she could have a mother who genuinely gave a shit about her well being. Or a father. Alas, she did not know who her father was.

She shut the television off and made her way up the stairs. Her bedroom was a loft. It thankfully had a bathroom connected to it. Her mothers bedroom was downstairs. She returned to he previous thoughts. Does my mom even know who my father was? She pondered that for a moment, before her attention was yanked away. She heard her mother yelling incoherently up the stairs.

Shit, shit, shit.

It must've been when she shut the TV off. Lee knew what was coming, too. The door opened, and her mothers drunken gaze landed on her. I'll skip over the details, for the reader's sake. Let's just put it this way: The next day, Lee would have a busted lip, a slight black eye, and would be bruised all over her torso.

Thankfully, her baggy hoodie could cover all the bruising on her middle. It wasn't what she usually wore, but nobody would notice. Hell, her own mother barely recognized her existence. Why would anyone else notice?

Then she started thinking.

Why would anyone else notice? Nobody gives a flying fuck about me. Not even my own goddamn mother.

Her mind started slipping back into that dark place without her realization.

Nobody cares about me. Nobody cares, Nobody cares. I could just off myself and absolutely no one would notice. I think it might be better off this way... My mother could be happier, find someone, and stop paying for my sorrowful existence. There would be no difference to anyone at school. It just wouldn't matter.

She only realized she was crying when she felt the hot tears trickle down her face. Bloody and battered, she fell deeper into her negative headspace. She was alone in the room; of course she was. She had no one.

Nothing and nobody. You have nothing and nobody. You are nothing and a nobody.

Not wanting to make irreversible decisions with a heavily impaired thought process, Lee chose to go to sleep.

She changed into her pajamas with the least amount of movement as possible, because it still hurt. Her old baggy t-shirt reaching just past her short shorts, tattered slightly. Deciding she couldn't go to sleep by her own will power and exhaustion, she took some Benadryl. She only took the recommended amount, begrudgingly.

You won't regret this, she told herself.

But she did in that moment.

Oh, what she would give for her liver to shut down whilst she slept, and pass before she woke. She tried to tell herself that wouldn't solve anything, but felt like she was lying to herself. The Benadryl kicked in soon after; the sweet escape of sleep taking over instead of the anxiety fueled, overwhelming depressive thoughts.

She slept heavily and had no dreams.