Chapter Text
When I was in eighth grade, I cut a piece of my hair. The rest of that year, I had a wisp of hair that stuck up. I thought it would help me stick out.
In ninth grade, I made wild attempts to grab my shitty boyfriend’s attention. While he listened to Russian music, I was using a sock to clean blood off my thighs. Obviously he didn’t notice.
I also cut my hair in ninth grade.
Tenth grade, I cut, dyed my hair, pierced my nose, even tattooed myself to get several boys to notice me. Compliment me. Say something that would make me feel… something. Anything.
It all fell to a deaf ear.
One time I almost got into the car of a random older guy I met on Omegle. Like, actually. I didn’t know he was older. He was gross. When I told my parents about it, well. My fault.
This mindset stuck with me ever since. I wondered if I got raped by this guy, would it still be my fault? Or would my parents finally wrap me in their arms and tell me I was safe.
I really wanted to be safe.
I thought I could find that fulfillment in something else. Something good. A hobby. An instrument. Nothing was good enough.
I’m smart enough to know that stupid saying, “You need to love yourself first”. I never understood it. I can’t love myself.
I barely know myself.
Shit. Almost forgot I’m at a party right now. I really don’t feel anything from the alcohol.
That’s past tense now. Edgy, I know. I was at a party. I drank too much alcohol but was numb to the side effects of it. I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know anyone at that party. I would’ve went with someone, met up with a friend, had a good time. Unfortunately there wasn’t anyone to call.
I remember waking up on a red paisley decorated couch. It reminded me of my Nana’s old couch. It was like I could smell her for a second. Cigarettes and vanilla. One of my eyes wouldn’t open. I lifted my deadweight hands up to my dysfunctional eye and tried to pry it open.
The couch sank to my left. Like, a lot. I looked over, prying my eye open to look at whoever filled the space. He didn’t look at me. Just forward. Well, actually sort of down. His gaze was like a slide to the floor. His hair covered his eyes.
I must’ve been staring.
“Fuck are you looking at?”
I didn’t stop staring. I probably couldn’t hear him at first.
He looked at me. Met my functional eye, then my dysfunctional eye. I let my eyelid fall and then continued staring.
He rubbed his knees and shifted. I think towards me. I wasn’t entirely sure. My right eye didn’t work, how was I meant to?
I’m sure he said something else. Probably tons else. The only thing I felt was his arms and this intense warmth.
I felt like the world that you see in Jesus’ arms on the cover of every kiddy Bible.
I felt like I was the world. Without knowing who this guy was.
I wanted to stay with him for a while. Curl up and just find somewhere in his gut. Stay there forever. Never go home.
He smelled good.