Chapter Text
I stare at the ceiling, my consciousness slowly drifting in and out. It's been like this since… what, four in the morning? And I still can't seem to fall back asleep… the light flowing in through my curtains tells me that it's morning already, and the clattering of pans downstairs signals that it's almost breakfast time.
I, begrudgingly, stand up, stretching my body, and get out of my pajamas. God, it's so cold in the morning… I shiver my body to get my blood flowing.
My parents will be coming to "wake" me soon. I know this cycle all to well. Although, as much as it is common to wake up, like, 30 to 45 minutes before my parents come to wake me, it's, usually, never like this! Unfortunately, I dread it's becoming more common….
The familiar creaking of the stairs breaks my thoughts.
Ah, must be my parents. like usual— for a Sunday of course! I usually leave the house for work on the week days… I must admit though, it makes me feel like a child. Being woken up on the weekends for pancakes and eggs. It starts to lose it's meaning after a while. The taste of pancakes become bland, and the eggs, well, are eggs (one of the only foods I still enjoy, thankfully).
I finish dressing myself with casual clothing, and lazily blink at my door as it opens.
"Honey," my mom quietly speaks, not turning on the light as she enters in, "are you up?- oh, you already are!"
It's sweet how she talks to me in the morning. Quiet and gentle… And the same smile plastered on her face.
"Your dad made some breakfast! You should come down to eat!" She encourages, smiling at me, her face wrinkling.
"…Uh, yeah!" I scan my room, trying to find my hoodie, "Just… Just give me a moment!"
She exits my room, not fully closing the door behind her.
Hate when they do that… oh well.
Finding my hoodie splayed out on the floor, I snag it on, uncaring for the unwashed scent. I know it's old. I just can't get rid of it though! It's perfect fitting, has a nice texture, and it's just my favorite! I enjoy how it covers my body, covers my skin, makes me look more normal.
We all know why you wear that hoodie.
"Stop it. You know why I wear it, it's comfortable…" I mutter to myself
Your body is gross. why is it even like that? why are YOU like that?
I pause. thinking about what I just told myself. well, not me, but a different part of me. So, yes, it is me… but I don't consider it me…
Genuinely, are you even human? your skin isn't normal! Don't get me started on your genit-
"Stop," I interrupt the voice, causing it to go away.
Quickly leaving my room, I trudge down stairs, still heavy with tiredness.
maybe I'll feel better after breakfast.
The incense of coffee and freshly baked something (most likely pancakes) were very prominent as I stepped into the tiled kitchen. My dad, who was still at the stove pouring pancake mix, glanced over his shoulder, and smiled at me. God, how I loathe pancakes. I've complained about them before, but my parents really enjoy pancakes! But, since I still eat the pancakes, they keep making pancakes.
It's not my fault I still eat pancakes though! I feel pressured into it! …even though my parents don't force me to eat pancakes… But, the guilt is still there. The guilt of wasting something someone spent so much time on. For me.
I make my way to the table and sit down. Plates and utensils have already been neatly arranged.
"I'm not a kid. I have a job! I'm in my late 20's!" I complain under my breath.
Then why do you let them treat you like one?
…
Honestly, it's pathetic! You, a full grown PERSON living with your parents at your age…
'It's not like that… I'm trying…' I snap back to the voice in my head.
Someone's speaking to me.
"-y, dads finishing up with the pancakes!" My mom spoke, taking a sip of her coffee.
I glance up at my mom, silently thanking her for taking me out of my thoughts. Although, I must've been staring because my mom paused from her drink and raised an eye-brow at me, "You doing okay, Ivar?"
I blink at the sudden talking; I didn't expect it.
"I'm speaking to you, are you doing alright?" She raised her voice, not in a rude way of course, but just to make sure I could hear her.
"Yeah… I'm alright!" I replied slowly, blinking in her direction, "Just… lost in thought, that's all! And a little tired too…"
"You know you can always talk to me or your dad! We're here for you!"
I nod.
they wouldn't understand, freak.
…
"Well," My dad butted in, grounding me once more, "On the topic of talking to someone, me and your mother have been thinking about this decision, and-"
Ugh…
there my dad goes on again. Always blabbering on, and on about something he could just sum up in a few words. It's honestly impressive— to an extent, of course. But man, does it take a long while to finish up a conversation with him…
now imagine that, but you're at the store and he's just bumped into his friend! ugh… It gives me a headache just thinking about it…
"Ivar?"
"hm?" I look up at my dad and yawn.
Damn it… my stupid thoughts! won't make me pay attention… or maybe it's because I'm tired… both, Probably…
"I said me and your mother are getting you a therapist." He set down a plate full of pancakes as he spoke.
Oh. Oh!
I honestly wasn't expecting that! I understand why my parents do that. I'm honestly glad! Maybe I can finally get rid of this voice in my head…
"When will I start therapy?" I asked.
"In a few days! Don't worry it's gonna be all right!" My dad reassured, "I think the name of your therapist is jewl… no, jasmine?-"
"Julia," my mom laughed, setting her hand on his arm, "her name is Julia."
"Alright," I simply responded.
'But would they understand?' I silently ask myself.
'I'm sure she would!' I reassured myself.
Quit lying to yourself.
.
I reach out and place a generous amount of scrambled eggs onto my plate. I then slowly put a few pancakes on my plate as well.
Although, I'm not forced to eat pancakes, my dad just makes so many! I don't want to waste resources…
I pour syrup onto the pancakes, accidentally pouring a bit too much. great. now they're all soggy… Well, actually, I can't tell which is better: spongy pancakes with not that much syrup and I can feel all the texture, or soggy pancakes where all I can taste is the syrup.
Eugh, I can already taste the horrors of the sugary syrup. My stomach twists into a small knot of disgust.
Eating around half of my eggs with ease, I stab a pancake and raise it up, causing syrup to drip off and onto the oily remains of my half-eaten eggs.
Vile.
…
'What?' I hesitantly replied.
Your vile for eating so much. Shoveling food into your mouth, really? How gross. You're gross. Disgusting, really.
'I'm hungry though, I need to eat…' I explain, my stomach dropping.
Look at the way the syrup drips off the pancake! it's disgusting! How can you even eat something like that?
I watch as syrup runs down the fork and onto my hand. I set the fork down and grab a napkin, wiping my hands clean as best as I can. The stickiness won't go away.
I stare at my pancakes with a pit of disgust and self-loathing forming in my belly.
'Why had I eaten so much…?' I unconsciously thought.
'Please, no I can't….'
.
See? Vile. Your sick. absolutely disgusting.
'no…'
.
Sweat drips down my neck and torso; I'm getting warm, too warm. the oil on my face from the eggs slowly becomes more prominent.
'I'm unclean. Dirty.'
.
You're pathetic.
.
I wipe my mouth with my sleeve. then again.
"-r"
I wipe my mouth again.
"Ivar?"
It was my mom.
"Ivar, honey, are you sure you're okay?" She asks sweetly, a glint of concern in her eyes.
Oh, if she only knew.
But I can't tell her, nor my dad!
They wouldn't understand…
"Uhm…" I stutter, trying to find an excuse, warmth filling my cheeks.
"You keep staring at your food," she remarks, "is it not good?"
"I'm… I'm not usually hungry in the morning any way…!" I force out a chuckle, "plus, you know I'm not a big pancake fan…"
"Okay, well, if your full, then you can place your plate by the sink!"
"I know…" I head over towards the sink, trying not to look at the food any longer.
And without waiting any longer, I make my way to my room.
…
Wasteful. Your vile and wasteful. Can't even finish their food…
…
I lie down onto my bed, throw my hoodie off, and plant my face into the pillow.
Ugh!
"Why?" I choke out.
The pillow quickly warms up from my body heat.
"Why am I like this… I- I shouldn't feel so guilty over wasted food!" I sob into the pillow, clinging onto my blanket.
"Y- yeah, I shouldn't be…"
"I…"
My stomach rumbles, dangerously getting close to a painful ache. And the knot isn't helping either…
I get up, wiping my tears (or sweat, I can't tell) away and head towards the bathroom, and close the door behind me.
With the sink right in front of me, I turn it on and splash cold water onto my face. Though I still feel warm, it seems more bearable now. I gaze into the mirror, water still dripping down my face and into my shirt.
I examine the splotches of differently coloured skin contrast my paleness. I touch my cheek , where a puddle of darkly pigmented skin is. Stretching my skin, I watch as the puddle moves with it.
I don't know what I was expecting.
I guess I didn't want it to move, not be apart of me. I take notice of my goosebumps as well. My goosebumps that don't go away. Cold or hot. Scared or calm. They're always there. Even weirder, my goosebumps are textured— more than normal at least. I guess I just have a bumpy skin texture! Like a toad or a starfish…
Freak.
I shift my gaze from my skin to my hair.
It's strange... Natural red hair. Not ginger, but actually red! With dark red tips… plus it has a rough or course texture! funny enough, if I were to cut my ends off, the tips would just darken again! Kinda like copper! Wait, does copper darken? No… it waxes? …I don't remember.
I fix my bangs and tie my hair up into a high pony tail (which was a little tricky as for I have medium length hair).
I splash more water onto my face then turn the faucet off. I feel more calm, and cool, now, thankfully. I breathe in, then breathe out. The knot in my stomach is gone. I hope that voice goes away for awhile.
It's been tormenting me for years.
…
…I've been tormenting me.
…
Nope! Not going there again… I just calmed down…
I guess I feel more awake now too! My eye lids are less heavy now, and I can move more efficiently. Despite barely eating…
Wiping my face with the hand towel, I exit the bathroom. While walking back to my room, my dad stopped me.
"What are you doing?" He asked expectantly, crossing his arms.
"Uhm- going back to my room?" I replied casually, like I wasn't struggling not even a minute ago.
"I told you to go get ready!" He exclaimed.
"…uh haha… for what?" I chuckled nervously.
"To go shopping? We need to get you new clothes!" He exaggeratedly waved his hands toward my current clothes.
Oh…
"What..? You never told me!" I said, getting more quiet.
"Yes, we did! Don't tell me you've been fiddling around for the past five minutes!"
Shoot…
They must've told me when I was… disassociating during breakfast.
"I am ready!" I lied, "just- just let me get my hoodie!"
He sighed, but I could tell it wasn't an upset sigh. "Me and your mother will me ready in the car."
I unhurriedly headed towards my room.
"Great, just great! Leaving the house!" I huffed.
I guess it's not that bad… I just hope we're going to a clothing shop and not the mall…
I threw on my hoodie again and slipped on my sneakers, fumbling with the laces. Then grabbed my wallet before leaving my room. Stepping downstairs and out the front door, I hopped into the back seat of the car and buckled up.
"Where- …where are we going again?" I ask out of breathe.
"The mall!" My mom happily replied.
Oh…
No…
god damn it…!
My palms sweat, which I wipe off on my hoodie.
"Why are we going there…?" I sputtered.
"It has the most… diverse selection of clothing!" My dad explained, "we'll surely find something for you there!"
"But I like my clothes! I don't need new ones!" I try to convince my parents, but it falls on deaf ears.
"Ivar, your dads right. You need new clothes," my mom sternly replies. A tone I know all too well. The we-aren't-debating-this-any-longer tone.
And suddenly I'm aware of how unwashed my clothes are! How great…
'I'm sure no one will notice! Right..?' I converse with myself.
'No, certainly not! Others have shopping to do!' I reassured.
'But I didn't even put on deodorant this morning…'
'I'm sure others will be occupied by their own thing…!'
Growling, the car starts up. Rolling down the driveway, we start heading towards the mall.
I hope it's not gonna be busy…
'oh, i just know it will be. It's Sunday! A weekend!'
Everyone's going to notice you.
.
I sigh and stare out the window, daydreaming about other things. Thing such as talking with a group of friends, or have a job I actually enjoy, or exploring through the woods.
Yeah exploring through the woods seems nice… the sounds of twigs and leaves crunching underfoot, the birds flying from tree to tree, chirping and singing to find a mate.
'…I wish I had someone to love like that…' I reminisced.
With a body like yours, I doubt you will.
…
..
.
I sigh, and watch as the neighbor hood blends into an intersection, then into a highway, then into a parking lot filled with cars. Upon the car entering a parking spot and the jolt of the stopping, the car doors unlock and I unbuckle my seatbelt. Fresh air flowed into my lungs, cooling me down.
"Thank god it's fall…" I sigh to myself.
studying the parking lot, it seemed pretty full.
Oh no.
The mall is definitely gonna be full of people. Not packed, but still full. I can't tell if that's better or worse… people will be to busy with themselves to notice me, but I'll stick out because there's less people, so I'll stick out…
Noticing my parents starting off towards the doors, I skedaddle up to them. Reaching out towards the door, we were greeted by the food court. my stomach growls painfully. I might've eaten some eggs but it wasn't that filling… and the smell of different foods mingling didn't help either.
"It doesn't matter… we're here for clothes, and clothes only," I silently tell myself.
More lying to yourself hm? Weak.
…
Thankfully, my parents didn't notice I was hungry and so we past the food court (which I was thankful for).
"What type of… style do you like, Ivar?" My mom asked, gently grabbing my hand, "is that what it's called? Style?"
"Mhm," I assure her, squeezing her hand, which helped calm my anxiety (although my palms have already started to sweat again), "but, uh… I don't really have a style."
"Then let's look around," my dad suggested.
Wait, that means… ugh!
That means we'll have to stay here longer!
'Great work, Ivar…' I scold myself.
As we walk around, my parents point to multiple different clothing stores, which I all deny. I like my clothes currently! I don't need new ones…
continuing on, we pass by a fountain that every mall seems to have. A group of teens sat, all talking to each other. I know I shouldn't stereotype kids but… I can feel their eyes on me. Sure, I'm not 100% sure if their looking at me but… the snickering and giggling isn't making me feel any better.
Their looking at you.
'No, no they're not! They're just talking to each other…' I try to convince myself.
You look vile. When's the last time you've taken a shower? You shouldn't even be out in public looking like that.
…
thwump!
"Shoot, I'm so sorry!" I exclaim.
I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and walked straight into my dad!
"I'm sorry! I don't mean to! I got lost in thought!" I stammer.
"It's alright kid, you didn't mean it." He reached out and rubbed my head.
"Sorry…."
I wiped my hands on my hoodie, my face flushing from embarrassment. And just my luck too, I heard the teen group laugh! Shit… they totally saw that… god… I cross my arms, trying to hide myself.
An ache pangs through my entire body. The dreadful pit is back, again…!
I wish I had more to eat this morning… god damn it! Why did I convince myself not to eat more…?
'I hate myself…'
….
Thankfully, we reached the end of the fountain part and onto the other half of the mall. I could tell that my parents were getting a little annoyed by this point. I haven't looked at any clothes yet… after all that is why we're here… we're here for me, and me only.
Passing another clothing store, my dad sighed, he's clearly frustrated…
'I don't want them mad at me…'
I quickly point to the store, "let's go in there!"
At the remark, both of my parents perk up with a relived look in their eyes because I've finally found something I'm going to look at— which I'm not! I just want to get home… and moreover my guilt of wasting time here is killing me, my hands won't stop sweating, nor will my entire body…
'god, I hope I don't smell bad…'
Entering the store, the cashier greeted us with a typical hello and welcome in. The store wasn't that fancy, just everyday wear. But the store did have a minimalist design to it.
Maybe just getting an outfit would please them enough to go home! I want to get out of this store.
I peer behind me to look at my parents, which my mom shooed her hand, signaling me to go look around on my own. I gulp nervously. On my own? I mean, I'm used to being alone, staying inside often and being home-schooled really helped with that but… here it felt different. We are in public! And the store is so… empty…
I wipe my hands on my hoodie, again.
Walking down some isles, I search through the racks. Surprisingly, a lot of the clothing was beige, black, or white. How sad… the lack of colour is. Barely any earthy tones!
Noticing a more colourful rack, I more carefully examine through it. Plucking a hoodie out, I scan over it. It's a grey hoodie with a sewn in green shirt over it. Hmm… I mean, it looks nice! I check the size: large. Price: $59.00. I rub the cloth between my fingers. Seems decent enough!
I place the hoodie over my forearm and move onto the pants section. There wasn't as much pants than there were shirts, oh well. Pants are easier to choose. Mostly because I only wear sweatpants… I can't stand jeans. Picking out a plain pair of dark grey sweatpants, I make my way to the cashier.
This is… easier than I thought! I finally feel like an adult!
Suddenly, a hand takes my clothes away. I flinch and immediately reach out to grab it back.
I relaxed as I realized it was my mom who took my clothes. But, wait… is she gonna pay for me?
No! I can pay for myself! I'm not a child.
I stride up to my mom, "mom, I think I can pay for my own clothes," I chuckle.
"Nonsense honey! I'm your mom! You don't need to pay for stuff when I'm here!" She rubs my upper arm and softly grins at me.
"But-"
"Hush, Ivar, it's fine!" She reassures me.
'But I'm not worth the cost!'
'I… I don't… I can take care of myself!'
'I'm worth less than this.'
As much as I want to speak out against it, I can't!
My jaw clenches, and I grit my teeth.
My body won't let me speak…
I need to tell them I'm not a child!
They need to understand…!
.
"I- I'm not a child!" I muster a small, barely audible whisper.
Pathetic. Can't even speak up for yourself.
…
It's not actually about be treated like a child is it?
'No- I just… want f-'
Freedom? Do you actually want freedom, or the feeling of freedom?
…
You can't live out in the world without your parents. Hell, you barely manage to make it through a single work day!
'I'm still trying…'
You keep saying that. For years you've been saying that. Funnily enough, or, moreover disappointing, is that we both know what you can do at your best, but you choose not to reach that.
'You don't understand! It's more difficult than that-'
You don't choose to make progress. You have access to do that, yet you don't.
…
Your pathetic. it's a real shame that you even call yourself human. You should k-
.
Suddenly, a strong grip on my arm yanked me out of the store. A small ache pangs though my arm.
"Ivar! We said it's time to go!" My mom huffed.
"I- sorry," I whimper.
'How stupid of me…'
'at least I'm going home…!'
Whether is was my moms grip on my arm or something else, small prickly static ran through my arm. The kind of static when a limb falls asleep.
Ugh.
I hate it when this happens! I feel like my limbs fall asleep more than other people…
I shift my arm, and it was released from my moms grip with a small apology coming from her. I guess she didn't realized how tightly she was holding my arm.
I shake my arm and rub my hands on my hoodie.
Can't wait to feel the crisp air outside.
Walking past the fountain and back into the food court, the pit in my stomach drops as a low growl emerges.
I ignore it.
Reaching out with semi-shaky hands, I open the doors that lead out of the mall. Inhaling the fresh breeze, which cold down my warm lungs, I exhale.
'I should go outside more often— on my own terms, of course.'
Heading towards the car, I, somewhat, relax my muscles. I'm already getting tired again… with an odd rumbling feeling coming from my stomach, the pit was gone, or, at least, lifted for now. Can't say the same for my tinging arm though…
Ducking my head into the back of the car, I sit down and buckle up. Quickly, my parents also entered the car, my mom tossing my new clothes back to me.
The car ride home was quiet. And awkward.
Yeah maybe it's a good thing I'm getting therapy… I can't keep disassociating like this.
Are you really going to open up?
"…shut up." I mutter.
Are you really going to try?
'Are you really going to be so fucking negative all the time? Really! Cause I can't enjoy a single day in living without you complaining!' I snap back at it, glaring at the window.
But you still listen to me.
'I'm done speaking to you.'
Keep lying to yourself if it makes you feel better then.
I grit me teeth, causing pain to shoot through my jaw.
"Ugh…" I groan.
The rest of the car ride I, thankfully, didn't have to deal with that stupid voice in my head!
Arriving home, with the tingling in my arm now subsided, I hurried inside.
"Ivar, wait!" My mom called out, "when's the last time you've taken a shower?"
"Uh- I don't remember…"
"Well then, you should take one," she suggested, "I know you don't enjoy showers but still, you need to clean yourself!"
It is true that I don't enjoy showers (I also forget to take them as well). It's just…. something about the quick running water that my body doesn't like! No matter if I'm in a cold or hot shower, it gets difficult to breathe! It's like my throat wants to close up, but won't fully do it…
I Make my way up the stairs, the old wood creaking under my weight. Entering the bathroom, I chuck my new clothes onto the floor. I'll wear my new clothes after I shower. Taking my towel, I set it aside for later.
I glare at myself in the mirror.
It gives me a friendly reminder of who I am.
What I am.
Freak.
I remove my hoodie, showing my arms and their differently coloured splotches with the raised bumps.
tossing my hoodie in a separate pile, I remove my shirt as well. More dark splotches contrast my pale skin, with a specific large cluster on my chest.
Its strange, my vitiligo— compared to other with the condition at least. It's not random—to an extent, at least.
Splotches run up my arms and legs and clump together on my back. But, of course, there still are puddles that don't follow the rest. (Like the ones on my face or chest).
…
Inhuman. Disgusting. No one will love you with a body like yours.
…
"I need to get to showering." I bring myself back to reality.
I shed the rest of my clothes and toss it aside and undo my pony tail. Reaching past the curtains, I turn on the faucet, pull up the pin to shower, and plug the drain. Thankfully, the water here heats up quickly, so I didn't need to wait long to enter.
Immediately, warm water pours down my body, steam surrounding me.
Huff…
My throat is closing slightly. I can't breathe as easily…
Sure, it's never caused me lightheadedness or other problems, but it sure as hell is annoying!
Huff…
I focus on the warmth of the water, the pooling water at the bottom warms my feet. Water trickles down my chest and down my torso to my crotch.
I enjoy showering, but hate it at the same time.
It's calming, yes. But at the same time, it's distracting when it constantly reminds me of my body.
I was born a girl.
But my flat chest and under developed genitalia say otherwise. I guess my name doesn't help either. My parents said when they found me, they thought I was a male! Thus, they named me Ivar. It wasn't until they took me home and examined further that they realized I was a biological female (why they didn't change my name, I do not know).
All of this is… headache inducing for me. So, I choose to be neither. Which my parents don't fully understand yet, but they want me to be happy…
Huff…
I glimpse over my body. My breasts aren't that of a typical woman; they're flat. Actually, I don't think it has the proper function of a female breast… not like it matters anyway, my genitals are heavily distorted. My ovaries had to be removed due to complications, and my vagina is severely underdeveloped… I can't even use a small tampon (not that I need one in the first place).
No one is going to love you. You make me sick.
Diverting my attention to my hair, I run it under the water flow, water droplets falling off the tips. Lathering up my hands with shampoo, I massage it into my scalp. Soap running down my arms and back, leaving a trail behind. I drench my head in the flowing water, causing the soap to slide off and into the pool below.
"Augh!"
I reel my head back and cover my eyes.
Fuck! Got soap in my eyes...
burning sensations jolts through my eyes, watering as I force them open and run my face under the shower head. I blink, then blink again.
Ugh…
You're a terrible person.
I blink once more.
Disgusting body. Barely human.
Huff…
The stinging was finally going away, leaving a soft ache behind.
'I think that's enough for today…'
I turn the shower off and unplug the drain, the water gurgling as it slowly disappears. Stepping out and grabbing my plush towel, I dry myself. Once dry enough, I put on my underwear and try on my new clothes. As expected, the hoodie and pants fit snugly.
Exiting the bathroom, I examine the analog clock in the hallway. 7:30 p.m. ah, close to dinner time. The clattering and sizzling coming from the kitchen further confirms its dinner time. From the way the sizzling sounds, we're having meat for dinner. Steak, patties, ham, I'm not quite sure, but the aroma of the same spice blend that my dad uses fills the house. How… pleasant.
I trudge my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, taking a seat at the dining table. As per usual, it's set up with plates and utensils.
I just hope I can eat something…
"Your new clothes look nice!" My mom complemented.
"Thanks…!" I replied half-heartedly.
It's not like I wanted new clothes anyway. But I guess it's nice enough.
After some time, the clicking of the stove top's knobs breaks the silence; Dad was done cooking dinner. he brings over a plate of cooked steaks (medium rare, of course). I've always have been a huge fan of red meat, so I think I'll be able to eat.
But… I feel empty.
'Am I truly hungry?' I question myself.
I use a fork and stab a couple of pieces and transfer it onto my plate, the juice dripping off. Watching the steak dribble with juice, my stomach knots up.
'Oh god… this is reminding me off breakfast…'
…
Vile.
I feel gross.
I raise the fork and stab the smallest piece on my plate, and bring it to my mouth before taking a small nibble out of it.
…
'I hope my parents aren't watching me eat. This feels humiliating…'
Bitting the rest of the piece off the fork, I slowly chew on it. And chew on it more.
And more.
And more…
My body won't let me swallow.
My throat is tight.
Why is it closing up?
My body is resisting.
I feel sick.
My mouth goes dry as I gag the food out into the plate, coughing loudly.
Gross…
"Are you sick, Ivar?" My dad asks, voice filled with concern.
"No-" I try to speak, but keep getting interrupted by my coughing fit, "I'm- cough- I'm fine…"
"We have cough drops if you need them!" My mom perks up.
"Ahem…." I clear my throat, which, thankfully, finally start to open up again, and my mouth starts to water.
I'm starving…
You deserve it.
'No I don't.'
After the stuff you pulled at the mall? Why do you still think you're worth all this.
…
I stare at my food, which is probably cold by now.
Yeah… the chewed up morsel isn't helping either. It appears to be… unappetizing now. The clumped up piece of chewed meat is touching other uneaten pieces.
Great.
It contaminated the other pieces. Now I can't eat it.
'Maybe you're right…' I subconsciously agree with myself.
…
I pick up the plate and head over to the sink.
"Finished with dinner so soon? You've barely eaten anything on your plate…" my mom muttered.
"I- … I think my stomach is upset right now,"
Which was partially a lie. Yeah, my stomach has a knot in it, but also seeing my chewed up food really took my appetite away.
Scraping the food off and into the trash, I clean my plate before heading upstairs. I need to get ready for bed. I try to go to bed early because I struggle with sleeping… and staying asleep. I've tried melatonin, but it only made my insomnia worse because my body built up an intolerance…
Entering my room, I slip on my pajamas and brush my teeth in the bathroom.
I exit the bathroom and lean over the stair railing, "good night mom, good night dad!" I yelled, before heading back to my room and laying down.
I stare at the popcorn ceiling, the corners of my eyes darkening as tiredness steps in.
Your imperfect. You're a terrible person, causing so much burden on your parents.
Painful tingles run up through my left arm.
You're body can't even work right. Freak.
A sharp jolt bolts through my shoulder, where the joint is.
I flinch.
My lungs expand then deflate as I take deep breathes to calm myself down.
'You just don't shut up do you?' I grit my teeth.
Not when there's so much to point out about you. What makes you a target to others.
The tingles subside, becoming bearable.
I slowly blink. Then blink again, but this time my eyelids stay closed for longer.
I close my eyes once more, allowing sweet sleep to settle into my body.
Finally, peace…