Good Enough

Julian - Try\\Tired\\Fail

Things are getting bad again.

One year ago in the bathroom kind of bad. Well, almost there. Not quite, but getting closer.

I didn't even realize it was getting to that point until the t-shirt I was using was too red to be able to successfully stuff under my mattress anymore.

My mind likes to do this self torture thing, where it'll push everything bad into one corner, and let it pile up higher and higher. I'm on cloud nine with Mia right now, Mateo hasn't been bothering me as much lately, and I've avoided Dad for the most part.

But not today. Today my mind painfully forced me to watch Mia leave her salad untouched at lunch, it made me remember how good cold metal felt against my skin, and it made me feel every hit from my Dad. One second I was happily thinking of my date with Mia, and the next my body was falling falling falling sideways as Dad shoved me out of his way. The pile of bad things came down from its corner and collapsed on me.

I could cry right now. In fact I wanted to cry, because I had gotten kind of used to the feeling of hopefulness and happiness, and now it had completely crumbled beneath me. All the bad thoughts and voices were always there, but they were muted recently and I never realize how much I loved my head being quieter.

I touched my hand up to the side of my cheek, the only place my face had taken a blow to when I was pushed. It stung, but I think the failure that it represents hurts more.

And yet, somehow, the dark, twisted part of me likes it. The part that tortures itself, and turns the knife in the old wounds of my heart, and holds the literal knife to make the physical wounds. Some part of me likes the reminder that happiness is temporary, and that I'm never actually going to be more than what I've always been.

"Julian...?" Mateo. Shit, I've probably been in the bathroom for too long. He's probably getting all "worried" about me.

I splash cold water on myself from the sink. Wake up Julian, I chastise myself, you have an amazing girl waiting for you. An amazing girl you have to help.

Mateo is stationed outside the door like he's a bouncer at a club, waiting to ID me and get me thrown out of line. But I know that he's just paranoid, standing there to bust the door down the second he hears something like he did a year ago. His shoulders sag in relief when he sees me walk out and throw him a small smile, not bothering to hide the bandaid stuck at an angle on my cheek. Just another run in with a volleyball. Besides, he has a right to be relieved, because he's not going to relive what happened last year; not today.

Sometimes I want to throw myself at him and tell him everything that's wrong, confess that what happened last year wasn't a mistake.

But I walk past him, because that thought is stupid and it's never going to happen.

As am I'm putting my shirt on, it takes a lot of effort not to yelp in pain and give up. The worst part? I did it to myself. Almost twice the hurt, but I have to finish getting ready before I'm late to a date with Mia. We're going to restaurant (not that Mia knows that), and I'm going to try and get her to eat something without screaming at me. I know it's a shitty thing to do, but I'll feel worse if I don't even try. I have to try.

That's what it always comes back to, doesn't it? Trying to be a good son. Trying to be a good brother. Trying to be good at school Trying to be good at sports. Trying to be a good boyfriend, and good person, a good anything.

It's pretty damn hard to try all the time. It's exhausting, actually. Especially when I know that I'm slowly failing at all of those things. 

My phone starts buzzing with a text from Mia, letting me know that she's ready whenever I am. I let her know I'll be over soon. 

I don't have any time left to dwell on how tired I am, because it's time to try all over again.