Self Harm and depression// Don't read if these things trigger or are hard to read.
(Also mentions for Disney, if this triggers sad childhood memory's do not read. : ) )
68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlixWxRL7IC
"Wake up," My mother call's from down the hall. Today is nothing. Neither is tomorrow or yesterday. It's all just a whir of nothing.
I hiss as I climb out of bed, dragging my lead-like legs with me. I blink and blink and blink hoping for my eyes to adjust to whatever light is on.
Breakfast is just the same as always, almond milk and plain Cheerios. Afterwards I get dressed, a plain black shirt, a black sweater, and a pair of jeans.
Everything is the same and nothing changes.
At school there is a buzz, but nothing new has happened. I'm numb, I always am. I want to scream, but bite my tongue to stop my-self. There is no good that comes from screaming.
I just want to go home and sleep. But when I crawl into bed I feel awake, trying desperately to remember what I did today. What happened at school.
My mind is just blank.
When I wake up the whole cycle will just repeat.
The only thing to keep my from dissipating like a ghost is pain. It's sharp at first, but when the blood comes there is nothing again. I have to stop my self after two or three cuts, or someone will notice.
"Guess what!" My mother exclaimed this morning.
"What?" I ask, I let the years of acting add a layer of excitement, while inside I could care less.
"Well, I can't tell you exactly, but if you can get your grades up we have a surprise for your graduation!" My mother exclaimed, clearly not picking up on how unenthusiastic I am.
"That's nice," I say into my cereal. I don't want to look at her. I know she know's I'm numb. But numb is not something she likes, and avoids mention at all cost.
And then the cycle repeats. And repeats. And repeats. Until it is graduation. All I can think of is how I am only just getting out of 8th grade. I still have four years, and if I try, 8 or more.
"Guess what?" My mother exclaimed while I sit on grass, staining my nice white dress.
"What," I ask, letting a little emotion slip by my lips.
"Were going to Disneyland." she says. All I hear is "Were trying to make you happy again."
"Yay," I say. No emotion leaks from my mouth this time.
I wonder if it will help my pain. Will anything?
Summer progresses slowly. I sit home most days, stretching and doing the splits, and annotating The Odyssey for school. By the time July comes I'm ready to be gone. I thought about the best way to die. Would jumping of a bridge or hanging my self hurt more?
I told my self to wait. Wait until Disney.
I waited and then I was in an airport, my normal schedule squashed. I look at one of the flashing screens, and see our flight to L.A.
I'm going to L.A.!
Will we go to Hollywood? Will we...
I pause my thoughts, noticing for the first time. I'm thinking. I'm excited.
"Disneyland," I whisper.
"Hmn" My mother asks.
"Nothing, I'm just excited." I tell her.
Together we share a smile of joy.
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