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Tragic//halsanie

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<trigger warning>

 

Why I am like this?

I'm so stupid for for saying something.

"She's not depressed! It's just her..her period," My mother yells at my father.

I look down at the floor, swinging my feet. God how could I be so stupid thinking they'd understand. More or less how she could understand. My mother comes from a good place on the inside. She does really, but sometimes things just. . .don't work for her or her schedule.

"Why don't we just listen to her," my dad barks back at my mother.

Why did you say something?

You knew they wouldn't understand.

"Fine. Melanie," My mother said turning to me, "explain to us what you meant."

The ground underneath me felt like fire. I lifted my head and looked at my parents as I sat on the chair, lifting my feet off the ground bringing them up with me. Safe. Warm. Having nothing to worry about with me. Feet have to so easy. They didn't have to wake up every morning living everyday as if it was a chore. Get up. Go to school. Go home. Sleep. Repeat. They have masters(us) that take them everywhere with them. A different shoe and sock everyday. Feet have it easy.

"Mel?"

My father's voice takes me out of my head as I opened my mouth slowly trying to find the right words to say. To speak. But nothing would come out. God, why wasn't there youtube videos to say "Hey! I'm depressed! Get me on that Prozac!"

Fucking speak retard.

"I- I just felt off for the past.. six to seven years I guess," I try to explain, "Everyday it gets harder and harder to get up in the morning."

"Melanie. It's called being a teenager," my mother says rolling her eyes.

"Is it still being a teenager when you want to kill yourself," I whisper letting a tear escape. Why couldn't I be a tear? I'd just have one job, wiggle out of an eye and roll down some ached covered face and then it'll all be over. It'd be so easy.

The room was silent. No one was talking nor making a noise. I wonder if they believed me. I wonder if they even cared. My world seemed to be crumbling but once I spoke it seemed to be going on a downhill roller closer even faster.

"Oh Melanie," My father said in a sympathetic tone of voice.

It's probably fake, why would they care now?

Who would care about you, you worthless piece of shit.

The tears seem to build up in my eyes, I try to blink them away. I'm gonna cry, I'm tried of crying. I'm tried of these over whelming emotions that control me. I feel as if I'm their puppet. They control me on a day to day basis. Their strings are tugging me everywhere I go. Telling me when to cry. Telling me when to look in the mirror to see how pathetic I am. I cannot control the master of my strings because I am the master of the strings. I am the puppet,but also the master. Because my emotions are inside of me. My emotions are apart of me.

"Sometimes I consider ending it," I say as I start picking the skin around my nails, "I question if you guys would miss me-"

"Melanie, do you just want a attention? Because, we give you enough attention" my mother says staring at me.

How dare she? She doesn't know what I'm going through. She's lived her happy pathetic life with kids and a husband and a fucking job. She's never struggled in her life! Everything was handed to her on a fucking silver platter. I can't even get out of fucking bed with wanting to end it. End all of it.

"I'm pathetic," I continue, "I don't want anything to do with myself. I can't look in the mirror without being like 'wow you should really end it all."'

Why haven't you ended it if you wanted to end so bad?

Because I'm afraid of what's after it all.

"Sometimes I scratch my skin. When i'm angry at myself i just dig my nails somewhere and I claw at my skin until i bleed," I admit, "it's therapeutic."

At this point I can't feel anything. Everything is numb. I can't feel anything, nothing seems important to me. Why would anything even matter to me? I'm a selfish bitch who isn't great full for anything. The sad thing is, right now I don't even care.

End it!
End it!
End it!

"That's it," my mother says leaving the table, "you're going to therapy."

Wait what the fuck.

Chapter Text

What's the point of getting up? Do i really have to get up? I don't even want to sleep I just want to lay here on hours on end, just thinking. Thinking is a stupid thing for me.

I sometimes wonder what my parents life would be like without out me. What's the point really of thinking that, I know they'd be happier without me as an eyesore to my family. Wow I'm at it today.

Sometimes I feel like a cliché. I'm depressed, I think my parents hate me, and i'm not straight. I feel as if I'm the poster girl for 2016.  Some days I question if I'm depressed or if this is normal.

I mean hell, most teens my age are heavily medicated, so maybe this is normal. I was over exaggerated everything, I'm fine. I'm just a a bit tired most days.

Everything is fine.

No it's not.

Shut up.

"Melanie! Start getting ready for school!"

Awe yay, forced education with people I don't like. How fun.

I got out of bed, and got dressed quickly (as I lay my clothes out for school the night before). Put my hair in small little buns before spending the rest of my time on my makeup.

Ah, my makeup.

I probably spend around twenty- to forty minutes on my make up. I make my mother who's a nurse, wake me up at 5:20am to do my make up. I want to look...Gucci. I don't care if I'm only a in 10th grade, I must look nice everyday. I can't let anyone know how I feel and with my natural face I feel as if they do. I feel they can see all my secrets and everything I've done wrong without it. I know that sounds stupid, but think about it. It makes sense to me.

I really don't mind school, I'm pretty good at all my classes if I'm honest. Except for English. I hate English. The homework is overdone. The books we read are stupid. My English teacher always seem to pick on me for fun. He never leaves me alone. Because of the way I dress, act, basically everything. It really ticks me off.

Maybe I deserve it..

Yes you do, Melanie.

Oh..

I don't really mind wear I go to school, it's very excepting place.  I mean, I may say I don't like it (like I did earlier) but it's honestly pretty cool. I go to school at an art school in New York grade 6-12. I've been there since sixth grade and it's been a great experience, I mean other than the underlining pressure that drives kids insane. Like at any school, there is an under lining amount of pressure that the school doesn't tell you about. You have to be the best of the best to get into my school. You must at least have a GPA of 3.8 if not then they'll find a loop hole and you'll leave the school. This one girl, Sally Mars told me they pay off some kids parents to leave. Tragic.

Then I realized something as I began to finish up, it was quite.

I don't like quite. When it's quite I feel as if I feel numb. I can't feel anything. My toes aren't on he ground. The brush in my hand. The clothes on my skin. Nothing. Or there's the other feeling.

The other feeling is much more intense. I feel every bone in my body move at once. I can feel my skin growing. I can feel everything happening on my body all at once. My heart seems so loud and too big to fit inside of me as I feel the blood pump and pump. It hurts. My skin will sound like old wax paper as I move to walk. It sounds as if it's stretching. That's the one I dread.

Before I realize it, I'm singing out loud to myself hoping to avoid any of the pain.

"Hey girl, open the walls, play with your dolls
We'll be a perfect family."

I wonder if I can sing...

You can't. Who would even like the stupid shit you write.

"Melanie! Come and get breakfast your ride is here!" My mothers boyfriend yells from upstairs interrupting my singing

My parents have been separated for the last five months. It was both of there choices. My dad gets me and my brothers for half a week, and my mom gets us the rest. We have like a limit of five minutes to see our parents interact, and this time I took it.

To be honest, I knew my parents marriage was gonna end. My dad was always out during work, he'd drink a lot too. He'd always said my mother was cheating on him, but she wasn't. She couldn't, it wasn't in her morals. They just got so sour towards each other. And now they've split, and getting couples therapy. But my parents still have significant others.

I don't mind my moms boyfriend Matthew, he's pretty young if I'm honest. But if he makes my mom happy then...I'm happy.

My dad hasn't been with anyone. After Matt came into the picture he cleaned up his act. He stopped drinking. He started trying, but he wasn't good enough for mom anymore. It's depressing. Also tragic.

I hope I find love....

Who the fuck would love you?

I ran down stairs, grabbing my bookbag on the way out before heading to the kitchen.

I ate a couple eggs from the stove before I grabbed my phone from Matt, my parents have decided to take my phone away at night to help with my sleep. My father doesn't really do it if I'm honest he thinks it's stupid, but mom and Matthew you do.

Before I leave to catch a ride with my friend Elizabeth, my moms boyfriend yells one more thing to me.

"You have therapy tonight! Mom will pick ya up right after school!"

Dammit.