Status: The end. Thank you all so much for reading.
Wrists
demons .
I woke up feeling very, very faint. I struggled to keep up with my tight, morning schedule, and had nearly 5 eggs (yolk and all) for breakfast. My sister watched me while she ate her cereal, confused that I hadn’t given her all the rest like I always did in the mornings. The look she was giving me made my stomach sick and hands shake. I couldn’t stand the way she was staring at me—eyes wide, in slight shock and horror, while the eggs disappeared in my mouth and down my esophagus, to my stomach. I could feel my throat tighten in protest; ribs closing down on my fast-paced heart.
“Well, you were hungry,” she muttered underneath her breath, spooning another bit of cereal and slowly shoving it inside her mouth. I stared at her for a split moment, eyes widening before I quickly turned away from her. My whole world was turning into one, big blur of nothing. My hands were shaking too much to pick up or hold anything. I could feel her still watching me, most likely wondering what was wrong.
I truly was misunderstood.
She didn’t know—no one knows. Or, rather, maybe they do. But they’re too afraid to admit it; everything was going perfect in their little lives, why let someone like me ruin the euphoria of peace? My mother had just gotten better and recovered from my aunt’s death—any more issues could spiral her back into her depression. It seemed if if I was ever happy, she wouldn’t be able to be. So suffering in silence was better for all of us. Right. Silence was always the right option.
I could feel it coming up. I could feel my tears stinging the backs of my eyeballs. I hear my shallow breathing in my ears. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. Icouldn’tIcouldn’tIcouldn’t. It wasn’t going to help—it was never an option. It couldn’t. I couldn’t. So why? Why can I not convince myself not to do it? Why do I have no self-control?
It was coming up so fast. My whole body was screaming, crying, begging. Or was it just my mind telling me it was?. “Graham?” My sister’s voice was distant. All I could hear then was the demons scratching at the walls of my brain, commanding me to do it. I had to do it. They gave me no other choice. I had no other choice. I promised myself I wouldn’t; I promised myself that a month ago. But here it was again.
My sister watched me leave the kitchen. She was still calling my name, but it was a far-away voice—the demons’ voices were louder, stronger, pushing me in the right wrong direction. But I obeyed anyway, because it was hard to deny them. I could never deny them.
I walked out into our backyard, stepped carefully in the woods, where no one could see or find me, crouched over, and emptied myself. Emptied my soul. Silenced the demons in my head. I betrayed myself that day. I betrayed everything I had worked hard for, which, thinking back, was nothing at all. But, at that moment, I felt so much release when I was back to being an empty, hollow shell. It was all I knew—all I was comfortable with—and I didn’t want to change that.
It was all I knew:
Emptiness.
I grabbed my wrists like they were old friends, and never let go until I returned to the house.
My sister was standing by the back porch door. I couldn’t look at her.
So I didn’t.
“Well, you were hungry,” she muttered underneath her breath, spooning another bit of cereal and slowly shoving it inside her mouth. I stared at her for a split moment, eyes widening before I quickly turned away from her. My whole world was turning into one, big blur of nothing. My hands were shaking too much to pick up or hold anything. I could feel her still watching me, most likely wondering what was wrong.
I truly was misunderstood.
She didn’t know—no one knows. Or, rather, maybe they do. But they’re too afraid to admit it; everything was going perfect in their little lives, why let someone like me ruin the euphoria of peace? My mother had just gotten better and recovered from my aunt’s death—any more issues could spiral her back into her depression. It seemed if if I was ever happy, she wouldn’t be able to be. So suffering in silence was better for all of us. Right. Silence was always the right option.
I could feel it coming up. I could feel my tears stinging the backs of my eyeballs. I hear my shallow breathing in my ears. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. Icouldn’tIcouldn’tIcouldn’t. It wasn’t going to help—it was never an option. It couldn’t. I couldn’t. So why? Why can I not convince myself not to do it? Why do I have no self-control?
It was coming up so fast. My whole body was screaming, crying, begging. Or was it just my mind telling me it was?. “Graham?” My sister’s voice was distant. All I could hear then was the demons scratching at the walls of my brain, commanding me to do it. I had to do it. They gave me no other choice. I had no other choice. I promised myself I wouldn’t; I promised myself that a month ago. But here it was again.
My sister watched me leave the kitchen. She was still calling my name, but it was a far-away voice—the demons’ voices were louder, stronger, pushing me in the right wrong direction. But I obeyed anyway, because it was hard to deny them. I could never deny them.
I walked out into our backyard, stepped carefully in the woods, where no one could see or find me, crouched over, and emptied myself. Emptied my soul. Silenced the demons in my head. I betrayed myself that day. I betrayed everything I had worked hard for, which, thinking back, was nothing at all. But, at that moment, I felt so much release when I was back to being an empty, hollow shell. It was all I knew—all I was comfortable with—and I didn’t want to change that.
It was all I knew:
Emptiness.
I grabbed my wrists like they were old friends, and never let go until I returned to the house.
My sister was standing by the back porch door. I couldn’t look at her.
So I didn’t.
♠ ♠ ♠
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