Hello My Name Is...

November 6Th 5 months prior 4:09 pm.

Davey sat in his dimly lit room, listening to some obscure band. He liked the music because it let him know that his feelings were natural, that he wasn't the only one feeling this way. It was the same with his friends, they all were somewhat like him in fashion and mindset. It was cool to have people understand him, and hurt and feel the way he did. But yet, it was another inch of suffering. He felt that he couldn't be happy if he was always around people who were just as miserable if not more than him.

He sighed and jumped on his computer, hoping to find a remotely joyful email or message.
Great, Eden was having family problems, Jack was having problems with his girlfriend, and Ricky was still suicidal. Out of all his friends, he wasn't sure who was the saddest.

He replied back to them, comforting them better than they ever comforted him. Him with his puritan parents of God fearing mentality, where he was the social outcast even at home. No one really seemed to accept him, not even his friends at times. It almost seemed like a grief fest, to see who was the saddest and most depressed. He hated it, he wanted to be happy, to have a stable life with little complications. Not even Mibba was helping lately.

He opened his last email, a nasty message from his ex. She broke up with him because he bored her, and she was better than that. She left not only him, but the emo scene as well, joining the ranks of the prep crowd. She was beautiful, so beautiful, any social enemy would become a friend. Guys liked her for her looks, girls liked her for her tough attitude. She traded in eyeliner for lip gloss, multi colored hair for blond, skinny jeans for boot cuts, and razor blades for razor phone. She sold out, and now she was hated in the emo community just as much as he was hated in her new clique.

He knew he should have instantly deleted it, but he read it over and over, broadening his pain in sharp arcs. He knew he had to do something. He wasn't sure why he cut himself, whether it was because he felt he had to punish himself for fucking up again, or to make himself hurt as badly as he wanted her to. He opened his desk drawer, choosing a single edged razor this time around. He used to use double sided, but found it too hard to hold with two edges coming at him at once. He stopped using cigarettes, his parents prohibited smoking. He stopped cutting himself on the arms and other visible places, it brought forth too much unwanted attention. The thugs and preps would mock him for it if they saw. So now he'd cut his legs and thighs, hiding his self hate from the world. He hated attention, of any kind. Negative or positive, he preferred to blend into the background. He did this rather well in school and out in public. He was just another skinny pierced kid with issues.

He used to be real squeamish at first, afraid of the pain and blood. He would prepare to cut himself with a razor, but get scared and use a pair of his fathers pliers to dull and bend the edges. It was a weak attempt to save himself from himself. But seconds later, he'd take the discarded blade, and with the dull knicked edges, cut his finger tips deep and hard.

Why was he so driven to his own self destruction? Where did all this fuel for fury come from? All he ever wanted, was to be happy. That was it, just a spark of happiness.

His mother knocked on his door, "David, Jack's here."

Davey hid the razor and pulled his pants back up, "Okay mom, you can send him up. Thanks!"

His mother entered the room, taking a moment to look around, "Is everything okay sweetie? You look awfully pale and tense?"

"Cause I'm an emo mom, it's our stereotype remember?" Davey replied back sarcastically.

She smiled, "I know, you kids and your fashion statements. You may have changed on the outside, but you're still the same sweet boy on the inside. You can't fool me."

Davey smiled weakly, she was wrong. Jack came into the room, carrying his usual faded olive drab messenger bag.

"Hey Davey, howzit going?" he said plainly.

"Same old man, same old shit."

"David Thomas Webster!" Davey's mother exclaimed with shock.

"Sorry mom, I mean stuff!" Davey replied with a grin.

His mother had a half frown, half smirk on her face, "You boys behave okay? And don't blare that music...All senses fail right?"

Jack smiled, obviously impressed, but Davey only waved her off with a hand, "Yeah mom, got it."

She left, and the boys got down to business, talking about girls, music, and metal.

"Dude, I think Emma likes me man!" Jack said with a smile.

"Aren't you still with Bonnie though?" Davey said, reclining in his computer chair.

"So? That dumb bitch is getting all my nerves! I mean, she never wants to leave the house, never wants to hang out, nothing! She's a waste of my time!" Jack said bitterly, laying back on the bed.

"Listen...before you came over, I hurt myself again," Davey said sadly, hanging his head in weak shame.

"What? No way man! I did too! Isn't that crazy! Here, check it out man! It's a nice deep one!"

Jack pulled up his sleeve, exposing a still fresh wound that was already starting to clot and heal, "That was for my mother, telling me what to do and shit. I hate that bitch!"

Davey faked a smile, doing his best not to be rude, but not to be encouraging.

"So where's yours man? Lemme see it! Is it deep?" Jack said, getting excited.

"No, it's no big deal man, it's...okay. I like to keep mine to my-."

"C'mon dude, we're both guys right? So what's the hold up man? I wanna see it!" Jack protested.

Davey sighed sadly, and dropped his pants so his friend could see.

"Holy shit dude, that's a nice one! You're really good at this shit man!" Jack said, moving in closer to see.

Davey smirked, hiding his true feelings. As Jack went on about his life and his problems, and his cutting, Davey pulled his pants back up and sat down quietly. His friend had no idea how much he hurt him, but it was natural. Hurting was life right? What else was there to life other than hurting? Other than his life of pain and sorrow?

"God...help me...please..." Davey murmured under his breath.

"Huh?" Jack asked, leaning in to hear what had been said.

"Nothing man, the cut...still hurts a little...is all."

Jack smiled, "Don't worry, we all know it'll pass, like all things in life right? Chicks dig scars!"

Jack laughed.

Davey faked it, sometimes you have to laugh to keep yourself from crying.