Chapter Text
I don't think anyone would care if I was gone, Yaneli, she's gets so appreciated. I don't, I don't know why I'm so jealous over that, I just want to have that many friends that love and care for me. Nobody will, nobody. Not even my own mother, I want people to make edits of us, I want to be appreciated like that. I never will.
Im always there for people, I let them vent to me, I help them in whatever, I love helping people, but for once I want someone to notice how I'm doing. I want someone to ask about my day, if I eaten, if I'm getting bad again. I want someone to care, I might just get worse, I'm getting worse. I want to kill myself. I will kill myself, I just don't know when. I'm a nobody, I'm only used so people can get sympathy, comfort, but nobody comforts me. I make so many stories that I know won't come true.
If I were to write down everything I have thought, everything I felt, Its be a bunch of un organizable mess. I don't know, I don't know so many things, but I know so many things. I'm confused, but then again I know everything, what is this? I know everything but I don't know anything? What is ture and false, why do we need the truth? Is truth God? I'm I truth? Is what I believe truth? What his false? Wronging? What is wrong and what is not? It's all blended together, we have some line, a base, of what mortality is. Morals? My morals are not normal. Why? Why cant I have the same morals as my mother, father? I won't, I don't think I ever will.
...
'Oh.'
I thought as I read over the writing again. Over, and over again. This was from a week ago, maybe I was going insane, I feel fine right now? Fuckin hell. I glanced up from the notebook, looking out the window. Broken, brothers are my worst enemy. They were the reason it was cracked, a big baseball shaped hole was in the window. Not nice, but at least it didn't crack through both layers. The window was open, letting in warm air inside, blowing the curtains while doing so. The sun was setting, leaving arrays of purple, yellows, organs- oranges, deep blues and even a bit of red. Beautiful, some people would say. I always thought it was too colorful, color isn't necessarily a bad thing. Just, not my thing. I tried to breathe, my nose was stuffy, again. Normal things for me.
I noticed how empty my room was, the lights off, the sky the only source of light. It shined on me, the shadow. I just cleaned, cleaned and cleaned, untill I felt like the room was not my own. Of course my things were in there, but still. The room smelt like a smokers would, with the faint smell of trash and paint. I found it pleasant, my mother thought otherwise. I was standing, my legs did not feel like my own. What was I to do now? I was finished, my room was so clean it was more like an Airbnb than a room a newly teenager would live in. I set my bed, I even scrubbed the walls. I took a shower, I'm clean. I should be clean.
I hope I'm clean.
I sighed, my throat hurt, my eyes hurt. Breathing in the fumes of trash, living in a hoarder house wasn't the best, but better than the streets. I laid on the bed, soft. I hated soft beds, but obviously my mom didn't know when buying me it. I felt myself sink into the mattress, the sun still shining, even while going down.
What depressing thoughts. Not like me.
I hope it's not like me.
Ew
Ew
Ew
Ew
Ewewewewewwew
Stop.
I should really stop.
I looked at the walls, a nice burgundy color. Full of paintings, and drawings, along with random trinkets. I started to draw more, I wouldn't say disturbing drawings. Just, my face. Even if I try to draw myself, I look different.
I look different, in. Every. Single. One.
But that shouldn't take a toll on me, maybe, I'm just not good at drawing constantly. Yes, that's it. Right? Nothing special, only my own faults.
I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes.
To sleep, to try and get away from the real world that I'm still new too.
Even if it wasn't the first time I've lived.