Lams Oneshots

54 - modern AU

this book has 6.66 k reads

this is really depressing

ENJOY

My name is John Laurens.

I'm 17 years old, and I live in the state of South Carolina.

And my life is pathetic.

I know what you're thinking, I'm being melodramatic. But I'm not.

I get so sad during the day, for no reason at all, and then I cry in the shower, because no one can hear or see me cry.

I then realise I'm crying in the shower, so I stop.

I have no friends. None at all. Not even one. Everyone avoids me in fact.

I sit alone, at an empty table at the edge of the cafeteria eating my lunch, alone, until I feel sick, and no matter how hungry I am I cant eat, and I throw my lunch away as spend the rest of lunch time sitting in the corner of the library, hiding behind a book and pretending I'm not crying.

I'm sad, I know that. I'm mentally screwed. I've never been to therapy, but whenever films talk about therapy, or books, they always recommend keeping a diary. So I tried that.

I sat, instead of at the library, somewhere on the school grounds in a field, smiling politely as people walked past with their friends, drawing away in my sketch book.

Or that's what it looked like to them.

I was writing, all my feelings. But the more I wrote, the worst it got. It didn't even get to entries soon. Ripped pages, ink stains, scribbles words, hastily written suicide notes, the words "I hate my life" filling up entire pages, plans of suicide, plans of how I could kill people, and drawings, of all the ways I could off  myself.

And it was fine for a while. I had an outlet for my feelings.

Until they found it.

And copied it. And read it to their friends. And stuck it up everywhere. Ans passed it around. And showed everyone. And that's when I was everyones freak boy. Psycho. Dangerous.  Freak.

I locked myself in a bathroom cubicle. And I cried. I sobbed. Harder than I ever had before. I didn't come out until school was over.

No one talks to me.

My home life is no better.

I don't live in an abusive house. More toxic than anything.

Theres good days. I like the good days. I'll come home and my dad is in a good mood. He'll smile at me and ask me how my day was, we'll laugh, I'll do chores, he'll make dinner, we'll eat together like a happy family. I put my siblings to bed, then sometimes we watch a movie together, and eat candy or peanut butter out of the jar, and laugh, and have a good time, until I go to bed.

But then there's bad days.

I'll come home, and my dad is in a bad mood. He glares at me, and sighs, he snaps at me and sometimes he yells at me. I do my chores, and I make dinner. He takes his and eats it away from me and my siblings, then complains about how late and bad it was. I put my siblings to bed. Then he yells at me. He snaps at me about how ungrateful and selfish I am. About how much he does for this family and I'm just a spoiled selfish teenager. He screams at me. He makes me feel so bad. So I go take a shower.

Then I go to bed.

It's not like he's abusive.

He's not. Because he's nice on some days. So if I told someone, I wouldn't tell them much. It's nothing.