High School Me (DNF)

Chapter 35

A little time skip, abt a month and a half to two months. Not for photosensitive viewers (whatever the heck that means). VERY angsty, and there will be more further along the road...

You have been warned...

We were on an airplane headed towards America against my better judgement, Eve sleeping on my lap, snuggled into my chest as my head flopped onto a sleeping Clay's shoulder. 

Despite the late hour and my exhaustion, sleep was something I was avoiding. 

I could feel myself spiraling. 

I could feel the hurt in my cheeks as I held a fake smile in place every day, only letting my facade down a small amount when my boyfriend became suspicious of my perky mood.

Fakery was always an early stage for me when I was falling into my own dark thoughts. 

The first stage was the sobs, my body wracking with silent cries and sharp exhales in the bathroom while Clay slept in the bed at night. 

The second was always punishment, the reason I was always so afraid to cry. If enough tears fell, a pool of guilt would slosh around my insides, burning my flesh with its acidic thoughts of self-blame. 

I hit my upper arms when I felt sorry for my mother's death. 

I pulled my hair until it bled when I felt bad for my friend's situation, also feeling scared that I seemed unable to control my feelings, wanting to feel angry but being engulfed with sadness.

I wanted more than anything to communicate to the blonde, but the fire inside of my mind that controlled my movements threatened me relentlessly as I peered at my sister's happiness. 

I couldnt ruin that, not when I'd already ruined everything else. 

I had moved, cutting a perfect relationship with my best friends off. 

I had fallen into depression, causing my mother's exposure to death and my sisters ignorance to familial love. 

I had cut myself, knowingly causing everyone I ever thought cared about me pain beyond their years. 

Clay. 

I loved him so much, yet I was toxic, abusive in the presence of the extensive pain I caused him.  

I loved him so much that it hurt to see him smile at me, knowing the only one I could reciprocate would be fake, suppressing the prospect of confrontation that I feared and craved. 

I loved him so much, I feared where we would find ourselves when he found out about my true mental state. 

I wanted to scream at him when he stared off into space, lost in his thoughts. 

I felt like I was waiting for him to find me, waiting for him to catch me sitting on the edge of the cliff I was so close to falling off of. 

I wanted to end it all. 

I was sorry for wanting to end it. 

Clay had told me he needed me. 

I was selfish for this. 

I was needy for needing him to save me, but I knew that because I was deprived of the help I needed, my mental state was deteriorating, making it easier to sing my last notes and succumb to the darkened surface of water I'd drown in. 

I was drowning. 

Taking on more and more liquid others saw as water, but that were really secret tears. 

Ah, secrets. 

I felt my eyes welll up at the memory of my boyfriend and I laying in the grass on our first date, sharing secrets and giggling with each other with our hands interlocked, a sign of our agreement.