Heavy

Not gonna lie; after that meeting, I didn't really think about it after. I didn't think of Gerard, or Vanity, or Mya or Dex. I simply lost myself in my books and homeschooling work.

That Friday, my parents came home. I was surprised. They called and said they'd be home in two weeks, but they were there. Elsa and I had been doing work at the coffee table; she helped me with formulas on my math. My mom, her gross, hypo-something shoes made a squeaky noise from the rain, and my dad, his boots made the floor sound weak. They both walked in, holding hands and smiled at us.

"We're home." They both sounded chipper.

Elsa and I simply looked up at them. I waved, Elsa greeted them.

"How are you, October?" My mother asks.

"Just dandy." I told them quietly.

They sat down, their bags were still be the doorway entry, and exhaled contently. My parents stared at me, like they were figuring me out -like Dex and Vanity and Mya had done- and had this urge in their eyes for me to say something.

"How was your session?" My dad asked with small cough.

"It was fine. I met some kids. They know me...know of me," I mumbled quickly, "One guy...his dad likes your band."

My dad smiled, "That's nice, right?"

I shrugged, "I guess..."

"How about your counselor? Carol? Is she nice?" My mom asked me next.

"She nice, she's very...kind." I felt so awkward telling them anything.

My parents...they're like strangers to me.

"But, you like her?" My mom's eyes lit up, urging me to say yes.

I nod, "Yes."

"So, you're going to keep seeing her?"

"Yes."

That night, I laid in my bed, hearing Elsa explain to my parent's about my schoolwork. They then asked her about my attitude and my cuts. Elsa answered with truth; I hadn't cut since the incident at school. They then told her that they would be leaving for another two month tour on Sunday, and they needed a little break, so they were going to have dinner and a hike on Saturday. Elsa asked them if they were bringing me along; they didn't answer her, and I rolled over in my bed.

This is where part of my self loathing formed. No matter what, it seems that my parents never wanted me around; they were always running from me. They were always on tour, they were always hiking, they were doing something for the environment, helping orphaned, African babies, and beaten and abused animals. And I, me, their baby, their daughter, their orphaned kid. October, she was taking a backseat to help the environment, to kill carbon footprints, or whatever the fuck.

October was nothing to them; I felt. I was less than compost pile in our backyard. Why did I have to exist?

I had one person on my side; Elsa. I wish she was my mother. She gives me medicine when I'm sick, she kisses my wounds, and nice hugs when I feel down. She teaches me, she encourages me, she's everything a mother should be. I'm something to her, not just a crazy kid she watches. I wish I could tell her this.

Saturday morning, I watched from the stairs, arms crossed as my parents got their bags and told Elsa goodbye. They assumed I was still asleep, but I wasn't. I was at the top of the stairs, watching them through narrowed eyes. Selfish, selfless assholes. I needed to cut, and I didn't care how I did it.

After they left, I went downstairs, I saw Elsa wiping around the counter top. She smiled at me, "You look pretty." She complimented me softly.

"Thank you. I'm gonna go for a walk, okay?"

"How long will you be away?" She frowned slightly.

"Just an hour or so."

"Be careful." 

"I will." I waved to her and headed out the door. 


I had gone to a drugstore and bought a pack of straight razors. Thank God the cashier didn't ask for my ID. I walked to the park, near the 7-11; no one was around.

I sat in the tunnel, pulled my sweatshirt sleeve up and began to rip open the plastic package, with my teeth, containing the razors. Once it was open, I dropped them as soon as I got one. I licked my lips, smiling happily, and gripped the gleaming razor between my fingers.

That overwhelming stinging sensation spread across that little slit I made. I whimpered, I felt the pain, it wasn't numb anymore. Salty tears rolled down towards my nostrils, down the top of my lip and landing on my bottom lip. I licked them off, focused on the line of blood heading west to east. I forced myself to cut again, cutting north to south across the first cut; it looked like a cross, or an x, whatever way you looked at it.

I felt like I had control. I was my own god. I made my own rules. I do things I want. Such as cutting. I can cut myself whenever I wanted, who gives a fuck? It's your own problem if you don't agree.

I do this so my anger doesn't built up inside. So I don't go postal. So I don't kill people, hurt others. I rather hurt myself than hurt someone else.

I am a selfish, selfless person.

No one understands. I say that out loud. I didn't expect anyone to hear, but someone did.