Christian Turners' Upward Fall (BXB)

Used To It

It was Friday, and unfortunately the particularly good mood I was sporting on Monday decided to be a one time thing. For the rest of the week my mood was shit especially in the morning, in fact the shitty mood I've had of recently was not only in the morning but pretty much followed me throughout the day until I was able to go back to the safety of my bed. This morning of course was no exception, in fact this morning was the worst I've had of the whole week.

This awful morning started with my hot water running out, forcing me to handle the cold water in which I had to shower with a never ending supply of goosebumps. I attacked my hair with my olive green towel-which felt rougher than usual this morning- and didn't bother to style it. I glanced at the mirror but dashed out of the restroom before I could glance at my bare torso. I surmised that my hair looked messy but it was still successful in achieving that flawless "I'm reckless but cool" sort of look.

I felt the powerful urge to slap myself as I realized I still had to brush my teeth. I made my way back to the bathroom keeping my eyes downcast. I didn't want to look in the mirror and start critiquing my various flaws. I brushed my teeth almost violently and slapped the light switch to flip the lights off, but in the end it only resulted in me hurting my hand in result of slamming the switch to hard. I wanted to scream in frustration. God I was probably the moodiest teen I knew.

I felt guilt fill my stomach from the bottom up. God I'm so stupid . I glanced over at the cabinet in my bathroom. I knew exactly why I had been so moody and just awful to deal with this week.

I stopped taking my pills last Friday.

The same pills that were supposed to make me happy and less of a fucked up mess. I can't even remember why I stopped taking them. Probably in a stupid strike of teenager rebellion. I stared at the cabinet. I couldn't decide if I should take them or not. I felt almost guilty to take them, but then again I also felt guilty not taking them. I worked in a center that was dedicated for working with children 18 and under that were suffering from mental illness. The Mental Health Center For Children or in short the MHCFC held group therapy sessions, it also was filled to the brim with people in the psychology profession from simple therapists to full on Psychologist. It also had educational experts who worked with children with educational issues. It was a diverse building filled with patients who had real issues. I was nothing like them. I didn't deserve to just take a pill and feel better, I'm not as bad as those kids or even my late brother. I did not deserve to be treated like I was important when so many others are worse off than I am. Of course I didn't do a lot there, but I worked as the receptionists and I also had to see each patient after a session to have them fill out what we called Improvement Journal Entries. Basically they had to answer a few questions I gave them and I put their answers into their patient file on the computer. The Entries were supposed to show whether they are improving over time or not. And also, questions like "did this session help you?" give them more leverage to make connections and get better. It was a simple job but I couldn't help but feel prideful that I was helping, even if it was only in such a small way.

My eyes once again strayed to the cabinet and I gripped my hair in frustration feeling the urge to just rip a chunk of it out and scream.

I'm not going to take them. I'm fine. I'm just moody this week because I'm a teenager not because I have "issues".

I got dressed quickly and grabbed my bag. I passed the kitchen, hesitating as I did so.

Should I eat?

an immediate no made it's way through my head as I remembered my reflection from the mirror in the bathroom.

Once again I was tortured with the cold temperatures held within my car. By the time I was at school my stomach was groaning in hunger and I felt incredibly cold due to my hair still being damp from my shower. I entered school with my lips pulled into a frown and my eyebrows angling into a scowl. The usual greetings I would get from students were halted whenever they witnessed my face, and how I was obviously in the shittiest mood I've been in out of the whole week.

Claire was the first person to approach me with a clear frown on her face as well. "God you're in a bad mood again?" she barked at me as she got closer. I sent her a glare before shrugging trying to seem indifferent. Rather quickly her scowl turned to a look of concern. "Babe can we talk at lunch?" she asked me as I shoved my shit into my locker. I shot her a curious look which she just responded with a smile. "why?" I made sure to be blunt so she would get the message I wasn't exactly in the mood for a heart-to-heart. She didn't let her smile falter, in fact it only widened. "I'm just concerned and have some sensitive topics I want to discuss with you". My scowl only deepened with her response. She pecked my cheek before telling me: "see you at lunch hot shot".

I already knew exactly what she wanted to talk about. I'm sure she is going to ask me about my recent mood, she's probably also going to ask me if my pills are helping me at all. She tends to ask questions I never wanted to answer. She liked to overstep my boundaries and just butt herself into my issues. I understand she cares for me and wants to appear like the perfect girlfriend but in all honestly I'd be more happy if we just didn't talk about my issues whatsoever. The weight of my problems was something I didn't like to face, I just ignore the baggage it gives me in an attempt to feel normal.

Or in an attempt to ignore the incident that happened when I first moved here. Practically after a month of living here in New York City I almost tried to die. I don't know what to call it because I didn't actually try to kill myself. It was more like I went out during a storm malnourished and depressed. I then climbed into a dumpster hoping I would die. It was Claire who found me practically making friends with the trash. Literal trash. It's laughable now as I think of it. I mean who in the fuck has a mental breakdown and decides to go out during a storm just to lay in a dumpster waiting to die? Nobody sane that's for sure. That incident has been something Claire could never get past. She always brought it up whenever we were fighting about whether I was "fine" or not.

God that incident was the most humiliating thing I've ever done in my life. Partly because it was incredibly stupid, but mostly because I had actually felt so disgusted with myself I felt like I didn't even deserve to be considered a person in that moment. To me, in that moment I was trash and that dumpster was the only place I deserved to be. It was humiliating to have her shove the fact that I hate myself down my throat as collateral to prove I'm not okay.

I'm okay now, at least I think I am. I mean that incident was almost 2 years ago and it hasn't happened a second time.

I desperately wanted to avoid having to have a "talk" with her during lunch, but I can't find any excuse not to. I felt even shittier as I made my way to class.

--

When lunch approached I just felt anxious and incredibly jumpy. I wanted to flee and just avoid Claire. Though I knew I couldn't. Claire would just find me eventually. I stayed late in my classroom as nerves settles in me. All the kids shuffled out as the bell rang for lunch but I stayed to contemplate my options. The teacher sent me wary glances as I made no move of leaving. It seemed like she really didn't want to approach me. I probably looked really angry. Sometimes when I'm anxious my face naturally morphs into one of anger.

I begrudgingly made me way out of class, immediately the teacher looked relieved when I got up to leave. I wanted to scoff at her actions but controlled myself. I walked down the hallway awfully slow, I was in no need to rush to my fate.

I heard shuffling and insults being yelled around the corner of the hall. I stopped in my footsteps. God someone was probably getting bullied. I didn't want to help or join in. But I also couldn't just walk past. I turned the corner with hesitance. My eyes went to the victim before it went to the oppressors.

It was Samuel. Claire's friend from the bakery. Guilt pulled at my heart. The second their voices made their way to my ears I knew immediately they were bullying him because of his sexuality. I had learned from Claire that Samuel was completely gay and surprisingly out of the closet.

The anger filled me immediately, the situation reminded me of my brother Corey and how he got bullied for the same reason. My anger especially increased when they shifted to Samuels olive green eyes. They weren't wide in fear, they looked dull and composed.

The bullying was something he was used to, I could tell just by the look in his eyes. My anger increased at the very thought.

He was used to it. He shouldn't be, no one should be "used to it".