My Fucking Mess Of A Life

No more.

Everything started out fine. It was a normal dinner with normal dinner conversation. I didn't realize what was happening. It happened so fast. One second, we're talking about the summer, the next, he's starting to say why he hates me. We were talking about my summer job. I'm working at a camp that doesn't pay well at all, but my mom works for the school business the camp is owned by so it's easy to get a job there. He asked why I didn't get a job somewhere else. I said I was fine. I'm taking lifeguarding lessons and next year I can earn more with that. I said I wanted to work with my friends. He didn't like that answer. I said the other places my others friends were working at didn't have any positions available anymore. He didn't like that either. I could tell he was about to go on a rant. I stood up and screamed that I was sick of hearing this and I didn't have to sit and take it anymore. I stormed off. Bad decision. I went to my room. My sister came up and told me to go to her room. I did. She was going to give me weed. She said she wouldn't just give it to me, but what happened was pretty rough and she thought I could use some. She was right. When she came to get me u had been getting ready to go out on a walk. I had a sweater, a pocket knife and a library card to pick the bottom lock in case he locked it. I didn't care what anyone would say. I just needed to get out. Before she could even light it up, we heard pounding footsteps on the stairs and then someone forcefully push my bedroom door open. She freaked and started trying to put it away. She's eighteen so she wouldn't have been in too much trouble but I would. I knew it was either let him come in and we both get in trouble or I leave the room before he can come in and subject myself to whatever cruel words he was about to say. I didn't even have to think about it. My legs were moving before I could even process how much of a bad idea this probably was. In seconds, I was standing outside my sisters room, the door shut behind me to hide the activities going on inside. Just as expected, he let loose a torrent of angry words. I'm a fuck up, I have no right to open my mouth against him, I got kicked out of school and I'm never going to do anything with my life, he's going to make my life a living hell, etc. Nothing I haven't heard before. The only thing that really stuck was the making my life a living hell part. The reason it stuck was because it didn't affect me. Once upon a time it might've. Even though I've heard it all a million times, it still somehow gets to me just a bit. Not because I care, but because I'm scared one day he'll actually follow through on his words. It's stupid to be scared for that reason, though, because he never does. For some reason it didn't even slightly scare me this time. He screamed at me to go to my room and I wasn't allowed to come out. I don't know why he thought that was punishment. I loved my room. I had my books, phone, laptop, drawing material, everything. My favorite part was my roof. I didn't dare going out there while he was still awake though. Especially since he was on the porch right under the roof. While I waited for him to go up to his room, I thought about why I wasn't affected by that phrase. I didn't care what he said anymore. I wasn't scared of what he would throw away or if he would hurt me. It just didn't seem important. None if it compares to what I say to myself or what I do to myself. That was the answer. I wasn't scared of him anymore because I was more scared of myself. He can't make my life a living hell if it already is one. Anything he tries is a weak outside attack. It's nothing. It's the attacks that come from inside that hurt. Walls do no good if the enemy is inside. Armor is useless if the warriors been poisoned. I had learned to block him out a long time ago. I was new to the attacks from inside. I didn't know how to get rid of those. I couldn't build walls because it was already inside. I couldn't walk away from it because it followed me. He finally went upstairs at some point and I went on my phone. I didn't want to risk him seeing it and taking it away. I wasn't focused on what I was reading. I was reading the words on autopilot. I just needed something to distract me from my head, but it wasn't working. Eventually I sat up. I stared at my desk, my eyes looking, but not seeing. My mind was racing with thoughts and suddenly it all came crashing down. My breathing picked up and my vision got blurry with tears. It was late at night and my sister was asleep next door so I couldn't make a sound. I started clutching at my hair, pulling on the strands so hard, I was surprised it didn't come out in clumps. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the tears kept coming. A second later I was lying on my back on my bed, writhing around as if in immense pain, which I wouldn't say was too far off. I grabbed my sheets as my back arched off my bed and my mouth opened in a silent scream. I brought my blanket to my mouth and bit down while I was pulling it. I sat up and the blanket didn't leave my mouth. I started rocking back and forth on my bed staring at the wood frame around my window. Every so often, I would pull the blanket out and open my mouth in a silent scream. At one point I felt my hands start to twitch and I brought them down to my right thigh. I was wearing short shorts with a long shirt as pajamas so my leg was easily accessible. I started clawing at my thigh with the small amount of nail that had grown since I last bit them. When too much skin got stuck under nails, I would use my other hand while wiping the dead skin off on my shirt. It was gross, but at the time I was too much of a wreck to even comprehend the pain I was causing myself. I kept scratching at my leg until I finally calmed down. I looked down and saw it was red and raw. I didn't care. I barely even felt it. "It's not enough. It's not enough to get rid of me. At least not for now." I was still under attack. My mind was still a battlefield of horrible thoughts and cruel words. I needed it to stop if I wanted to remain sane for the time being. I grabbed my blades and ran to the bathroom. I started with my shoulder. I had done it there so many times the pain didn't even bother me anymore. It also stopped stinging quite fast. Next I did my wrist. They weren't deep, but I did a lot more than the first time. These stung. A lot. I cleaned them and put a cream on it, something I never did with my shoulder. I wouldn't have but the pain was too much. It stung to much. I couldn't handle it. I put my watch back on and checked to make sure it covered them. I moved some rubber bands from my right wrist to my left just to be sure. I went back to bed and sat reading. Quicker than usual, I stopped to go to sleep as I was very tired and worn out. In the short moments before sleep overcame me and I was able to remain blissfully unconscious if only for a few hours, my mind focused on the three parts of my body where I felt pain. My shoulder, my wrist, and my thigh. I thought about how much I hated this. That this is what I had to do to feel better now. I thought about how much easier it would be if I wasn't here. No more yelling, no more pain, no more voices, no more panic attacks and bouts of crying. No more anything. That was the last thing I thought before everything went dark and finally my mind was peaceful.

5/31/17

A/n: So the next two chapters are actually dated the day this is coming out and the day before that. That means today and yesterday are and were really shit days. Yeah. Here's a chapter!