Mattia sat in bed, just letting his thoughts consume him. Nobody even likes you. They just like your looks. Even then it's probably from pity. You're so disgusting. Who even cares about you? Your parents would hate you if they found out who you really are. Your friends keep drifting. Everyone online fucking despises you. Who would even miss you?
Everything was just so overwhelming. He couldn't get rid of the onslaught of constant negative thoughts. He wanted to break something. Or get in a fight. Instead he went into his bathroom, took one of his disposable razors, wasteful, and took it apart. The blades were thinner than he was expecting and hard to hold, but nonetheless he held one of them firmly and carefully pressed them against his bare thigh. As soon as he moved it a stinging sensation spread across his skin. It didn't hurt as bad as he thought. In fact.. it was nice. It had the same effect on him lashing out would have. It gave his brain something to focus on that wasn't how useless he was.
And that started his self hard habit. Every time he felt overwhelmed, even if it was with a happy emotion, he would go into his room and he would cut his thighs. It was better than yelling at everyone. And of course no one noticed. Why would they?
And then they did.
He had cut a bit too low on his thigh the last time and he wore shorts just a bit too small. All the comments were about the "lines" on his leg. And then other comments rolled in.
Awww you cut yourself? keep going. i mean... i wouldn't miss him
ew lmao
haha bitch boy is sad no one loves him
He would spend hours reading comments like that. So he listened. He kept cutting, more and more and deeper and deeper. He cared less and less about hiding it, after all he should keep going. Every time his friends would ask he just brushed it off. It didn't matter, no one would miss him, right?
And then one day cutting didn't do it. He had cut at least 10 times and he still felt god fucking awful. He whimpered softly and put the blade away, running his hands through his hair. Only one thought ran through his head.
No one would miss you.
So he got the blades again and ran a bath. He took his time, making deep cuts all over himself. He wanted to, at the very least pass out from blood loss. The water rapidly turned a sickly pink and eventually a red from the blood, fogging up to the point he could barely see his legs. His stomach ached, begging for him to eat, as he hadn't in the last two days. He didn't care. He just wanted to do something.
He felt lightheaded. He felt sick. But he just kept going. His heart wouldn't stop hammering, and his skin felt cold despite the warm water. He could barely breathe and found himself panting despite not doing anything.
He wasn't exactly sure when he passed out, but he did. He was found hunched over by his mom when she came to tell him goodnight. When he woke up he was in a hospital, unsure of what was going on. He didn't have his phone or anything and was in a hospital gown.
His mom came in the next day with a sad, cold look on her face. "Mattia." "Yes mama?" "We went through your phone."
He could feel his blood run cold. Or at least what he had left. "O-oh. Okay...?" "We found your posts on that app. However you say it. You're... gay?" "Um..." "Mattia you know how your father feels about this." "I know." "He told me to tell you to find a different place." "What? Ma I'm 17-"
She just put the phone on the table and left. He whined pathetically and put his head down. This is just perfect. Hecouldn't even get dying right and now even his own family hated him. And he was homeless. Just perfect.
