Mentally Broken

1

Chapter song: F**kin Perfect by P!NK
(Mia's pov)
-Tuesday, 6am-
Fuck the world. Fuck society. What have I done to make the world hate me so much?
I swear if I hear another fucking person call me a slut, whore, cunt, etc, I'm gonna sever someone's throat, if not mine.
It's just not fair. Every fucking day I have to put up with jackasses at my school. They bully, mock, and criticize me in every way possible. High school's the worst, and even worse when I'm merely 16 and bruised, broken down to the core.

I'm Mia Smith, also known as a freak to people at school. So what? I haven't kissed anyone in my entire life. So what? I started a pointless fight with Casey, one of the most popular girls in school. It wasn't anything astounding. She was pissing me off, and I was having a shitty day.
I vied for something to steer my mind away from my dad's unexpected death. He had just died, car accident. People do crazy, amateur things when they're fazed, maimed, abandoned, broken.
In my case, wrangling a girl who's about 5 inches taller than me was apparently the cure for the pain of missing my dead father. It wasn't, and I utterly regret it.
That shit, the rumors, spreads like wildfires. I should've known that grappling with a popular girl was exactly like killing a bee. Once I started a fight with Casey, all her friends charged after me. They swarmed at me, except with hateful, heart-stabbing words.
On top of that, everyone made up rumors about how I'm a slut for having sex with tons of guys. I've never done anything relevant to that.

I KNOW people pick fights constantly in this freaking school. Why am I a big deal? Why do people throw insults at ME? Why is MY name written as a 'bitch' in the bathroom and on my locker? Why does everyone hate me? I don't even feel welcome in this world anymore. I'm so sick of feeling worthless to everything I know.
Nobody here will care if I died. People would forget about my death in about 1 week anyway. Maybe less. Can I just call it quits? I mean, I've been thinking like this for years already. It'll just be a happy ending for everyone if I just died.
My family won't have to deal with me, everyone at school will erase me, and I won't have tolerate mistreatment anymore.
There's people constantly begging me to kill myself.
There's people encouraging me that I'm a slut, and they make up these fucked-up jokes about how I'm going to sleep with every boy in the school when I've never even kissed anyone.
There's people who call me fat and ugly for no fucking reason.
What the hell is wrong with me? Where is a friend when I need one?
And yes, it hurts. It hurts to live. It hurts to walk into a room and not feel welcome. It hurts when people push me down in the hall "by accident" or smack my lunch out of my hands. Hell, I can't even eat without being called fat. That's why I barely eat and exercise my heart out everyday.
The funny thing is that they say they're just "joking" whenever I've told an adult. Really? Joking? Ha, a joke! That's sooo funny! Haha! Tell that to my torn wrists. Tell that to my suicidal thoughts. Fucking idiots.

Moving on, there's only one more period until school's out. I've just "eaten" lunch. I use this time to sneak in the bathroom and pull out the razor from my backpack. Since I didn't eat, I don't have to throw myself up. And since I don't have to throw up, I can relieve the stress.

I quickly and soothingly slice my skin until I create exactly 3 new cuts. What a perfect way to isolate the pain for 2 minutes. It feels guiltily amazing. However, the peace has to end, and I bandage up my wrist before walking to my last subject.
"Oops," Josh, some jerk in my class, slides my books from my desk on the floor. Knowing it was deliberate, I glare at him and pick up my stuff.
"She's got that look in her eye. She might fuck you, dude," Evan, another jerk in my class, remarks to Josh, cracking up like it's the funniest thing ever.
"Oh, you're right. Let's get away from her," Josh purposely bumps into me, making me tumble on the floor.
"That's what happens when you let yourself go!" Everyone laughs at Josh's hurtful joke. I take that back. Half the class laughs. The other half pretend like nothing's happening. How is this funny? I feel a little light headed from lack of food and too much noise. I'm on the verge of crying, so I run out of the classroom. I see a few people laughing in the hallway too.
I swear, this shit's contagious.
"Don't trip!" someone teases; then I stumble over someone's foot, smacking my knees and elbows on the tiles of the hallway floor. The laughing grows in numbers and it's unbearable. I'm crying, tears wetting my face. I'm sick of feeling so lonely. If anyone wants to help, please do. Does anyone want to help me?
"Aw, what a fucking baby!" someone else teases. Everyone taunts and mocks me, enjoying the fact that I'm vulnerable.

Finally, I run out of the school and go home, crying and just itching to grab the loaded gun in my dresser. This is what I have to put up with everyday of my life. THIS is why I can't stand another second.
"Hey, sweetie, how was your day?"
Mom is in the kitchen, unaware that I'm crying. Even if she did, she'd pretend not to notice. She's done that before.
"It was great, mom," I fake being happy, then shut myself in my room, where I lose my mind immediately.
I don't think Ellie, my sister, is home from school yet. Damn, I hate my older sister. It sounds too harsh. But Ellie's just as bad as everyone at school. She actually BELIEVES that I'm a slut, and she lives with me. That's fucking crazy.
I crawl on the floor and search for the gun in my dresser. Let's make this quick. Tears blur my vision as I set the gun.
"I'm home, mom!" Ellie's home. I could hear her heels click against the floor, probably thinking she's the queen or some lame-ass shit like that.

I put the gun down and stared at it in thought. I studied the trigger, everything. I take it all in, like I've done before. It's so simple. Just pull the motherfucking trigger.
I don't know what stops me, but I took out my razor instead. There's just a feeling in my stomach that tells me to wait a little longer.
The house is almost always quiet, and I'm crying with a piece of metal in between my fingers. Of course it's highly audible, but it's not like Ellie would care, and my mom would probably ignore it.

I turn on my stereo and put in a cd. It's a mix of songs. They're all my favorites. And it's not the happy songs either. It's the kinds of songs you'd listen to while you're at your worst.
The music shakes the walls as I cry to myself and pull up my sleeve. I cut myself in hate and anger, causing red to soak my skin.
I'm so sick of being worthless. Death is the only thing I want. Then how come I didn't kill myself?
I'm not scared, but I guess I'm just worried about the outcome.
A lot of people are just waiting for me to die. Would I be a coward? I mean, I've put up with this for years. And what if I don't do it correctly?

I cut myself for the last time today, then bandage my freshly cut wrist. I plop on my bed, listening to the music playing loudly.
Honestly, I've tried so many times to commit suicide, but it's a lot of pressure. When attempting suicide, I have to think about my surroundings and the possibilities. I could swallow the bottle of pills in my drawer, and it could possibly not work. I could end up in a hospital, and they could magically find some way to take the pills out. A lot of things could happen. Would shooting myself in the head hurt? All I know is that there's a possibility of wounding up with serious brain issues if I make it out alive.
"Dinner's ready!" Mom calls from downstairs. I miserably sigh, then pause my music. When I walk out of my room, I am greeted by my snobby older sister.
"Slut," she mutters under her breath. I want to hit her so bad, but I know I shouldn't. I just roll my eyes and walk downstairs. Mom cooked lasagna for dinner. Ew. I take my plate right back upstairs. Mom says that it's better if we not eat at the dinner table, because dad isn't here anymore.
I use her idea as an advantage to not eat. I throw my food away once I'm back in my room. Instead of eating, I make myself an ice cold bath. It helps burn calories. I shiver and tense up, but I eventually get used to it. The trick is not to overthink it.

I'm so tired and my heart will never recover from this. I get it. I shouldn't have started something I knew I couldn't finish. I ruined my own life, and I regret it. However, that doesn't mean people have to emotionally attack me until I don't feel worth living. Even before I started the fight, people treated me like a ghost, the invisible kind. I was always a nobody.

I step out of the tub and let the water go down before I get ready for bed. My bed feels so wonderful against my body. It's pitch black and silent in my room.
I used to be terrified of the dark, but ever since I've fallen into this hole of sadness, I find it comforting. However, I find it incredibly intimidating. I feel like my demons are present, clawing at my throat until I can't breathe. I'm not sure how I ended up here, but I know I want to die.

(A/N: I should've warned you that it's sad. Yeah, this isn't a very happy story. But I think you'll like the future relationship with Justin. It's sweet. Next post is on Saturday or Sunday)