I Wanna Be Sedated

I was laying with Tony on his bed in our room, comforting him. It doesn't make sense that Mike would kiss Oli,
I mean, Oli is cute and all but after his reaction when Tony kissed other people, it doesn't seem right.

I promised Tony earlier that day that I would explain to him why I cut myself. I wan't exactly looking forward to this,
it was a really touchy topic for me.
I was about to explain to someone - whom I had barely known for long - the reason why I take numerous sharp objects to my skin, making hundreds of lacerations deep in my arms, wrists, thighs, stomach... The reason I purposely inflict harm and pain on myself. The reason I have done so for many years...

In a weird way, it gives me a slight amount of comfort knowing that he has done this to himself, he understands the feeling of just needing a release from all the built-up pressure.
He understands the things you have to go through to feel as though pulling a sharp piece of metal across your skin is your only way to feel a sense of sanity.

As heart-breaking as it is to know that someone as beautiful as Tony Perry would inflict such pain on himself, in a way I feel better telling him, knowing that he understands some of what i'm going through.

I looked over to see Tony, wiping the tears from his wet cheeks, waiting patiently for me to begin explaining my story to him.
My story of self-hate.

I took a deep breath, this was going to be a hard thing,
I've only ever explained it to Dr Williamson, the therapist, Mike, my parents and my old room mate.

"When I first started high school, things were fine. Everything was okay. I mean, it was the best it was ever going to get for me. But about half way through my first year at the school, these bullies, for who knows what reason, started picking on me a lot. They beat me up more than a few times, at least once a day, sometimes twice.
They abused me verbally however, whenever they got a chance. They would throw scrunched-up pieces of paper at me, and write stuff on them. I don't think there was an insult they didn't use on me... Because of all the bullying I was getting, which I didn't tell anyone about, not even my parents, I needed an outlet. So I wrote a diary.
In it I wrote down all of my feelings, I vented in it, I wrote in it whenever I was angry, upset.. However I was feeling,
I wrote in it. I wrote down all of my thoughts in it as well - and all of my secrets. Which is what ruined me.
I took my diary to school one day, and it must've fallen out or something when I got beaten up in the morning.
Anyway, I was in my 2nd period class, and Beau, the group 'leader', threw a scrunched up piece of paper at my head. When I opened it, and read it, it looked really familiar..."

"Was it your..."

"It was my diary. He'd ripped a page from my diary.
I turned to him, and he was holding it up, smirking at me and he high-fived his friend Justin... All class I was just about in tears. That diary had everything in it."

"All your thoughts, and your secrets? What'd you do?"

"Everything... Well during the class, the teacher didn't even seem to care that I was almost in tears, or the Beau was reading aloud different pages from my diary...
As soon as the bell rang signalling the end of class I just ran out of the room with my bag in hand. I was going to go the bathroom, but on my way I noticed just about everyone had a piece of paper in hand, and they were all laughing at me, pointing, calling me names like 'fag boy', 'victor fagtes'..
The whole shebang. I figured Beau told them or something, but someone handed me a piece of paper, and it was a copy of one of my entries from my diary. It was the one thing I didn't want anyone knowing. Not anyone knew, not even Mike..."

"What was it?"

"I think you already know, but i'm bi... No one person, not a soul knew that. And the page of my diary everyone had a copy of, was the one where I confessed that I was either bi or gay. I hadn't figured it out yet, all I knew was that I was attracted to boys. And everyone had a copy of it.
Everyone knew my secret. I dropped the piece of paper, and I sprinted to the bathroom bawling my eyes out.
I didn't look back once, I ran into a stall and locked it behind me. I didn't care if anyone was in there, I didn't care if anyone heard me cry. I just say there crying, shaking. Everyone's vicious words were running through my head.
I imagined what they were all saying out there.
All standing around, reading that page.
Reading my thoughts and mocking me. I imagined them all laughing. Laughing at me."

I didn't realise that I was crying until Tony put his arm around me, rubbing my back. I replayed all of the events of that day in my head, they were forever etched in my memory. I would never get forget the events of this day, they will forever haunt me.
I'll always remember the day where my life turned upside down completely. The day that ruined me.

I took a deep breath before continuing.
"I sat in that bathroom stall for what seemed like hours, crying. It was probably only 20 minutes, but I lost track of time, and I didn't even care. I didn't want to be here anymore. I felt like I was going to, break I guess. There was so much pressure, and I needed to get rid of it. I searched through my bag, and found my sharpener in my pencil case. I took the razor bit out of it, and started what would end up being an addiction. I did my first, of hundreds of cuts... I did about 8 that day. I didn't realise what I was doing until I started to feel faint. I called Mike, I knew he'd be in class, but I needed him to help me. When he finally picked up, I just said 'I'm in the bathroom, please help.' After that I passed out. I woke up in hospital, I think 2 days later.
That was the start of my down-fall. And things only got worse from there."

"How did things get worse? What else happened?"

"Well my parents eventually found out about my sexuality, and they weren't supportive. In fact, the day they found out was the day that my mum started ignoring me, and the day my dad started beating me..."

Tony stayed silent, he just laid there, holding me, crying. I was crying too, and the lump in my throat was getting bigger with every word I spoke. I had to keep pausing to swallow, and wipe my face.

"That was two years ago. In that time, I've made, most probably, over 200 more cuts, on my thighs, wrists, forearms, stomach, as you've seen. I've attempted suicide 3 times, the last one which was 5 months ago, put me in hospital, and now this place. For those two years at school, nothing changed. I got beaten every day, got called names more and more. All the usual. My mum only talked to me when she wanted something, or was telling me off from something... and the abuse from my dad lessened,
but once a week at least I acquired a nice, big, purple bruise somewhere. To makes things worse, Mike is younger than me, and he couldn't really do anything to stop people from doing this to me - especially not mum or dad, without him getting hurt in the process. Which made me feel 100x worse than I already did... I wanted to protect my brother, but I couldn't. I was physically and mentally too weak."

We sat there for a few minutes in silence. I guess he was taking in everything I said. I just wanted to stay there in his arms. It wasn't that I liked him or anything, but I just felt loved and wanted. Which is a luxury, that I had never really been given the chance to experience.
I like it. I like not feeling worthless. I like not feeling like a complete waste of space. And I was thankful for Tony, I was thankful that he was the one to let me somewhat loved, and happy.

In that moment I felt content.

Unfortunately I had to break the peaceful moment, "So... That's my story..."

"Vic... I am so sorry." Tony was at a loss for words, like I expected. Anyone I've told my story to is the same. They all give me the same reaction, and answer. Either saying, "I'm sorry," or "It's going to be okay."

"Thanks Tony, and.. T-thanks for, uh... Listening to me, you know, ramble on about my life.." I said chucking.
"It's okay, I don't mind. I know that was hard for you. But it's good that you got it off your chest."
"Yeah... Well we should be heading to dinner soon. I'm actually hungry for once..."
"I think it's from all the crying." Tony said laughing softly, "Let's go then."

Before we left, Tony gave me a hug, and kissed my forehead lightly.

I really feel loved. People actually care about me.