Band-Aids On Bruises

Depressed

[The Next Day, eh]

It's almost three in the morning now. I haven't slept at all tonight, even though I went to bed right after we got home. I can't even close my eyes or memories will replay like usual, except worse. Everything seems more... vivid.

I stand, and make my way through the darkness of my room to my open window. I appreciate the slight breeze blowing through it and on my face. I look at the stars as the twinkle in the night sky and sigh.

Every muscle in my body aches, from exhaustion and pain, and I find myself thinking of possible ways to sleep without seeing memories. I've heard that alcohol can put some people to sleep...

I shake my head. 'I don't want resort to alcohol, for many reasons.' so much for that.

I pace around the room. I try to take my mind off of the recent events by doing different things, but to no avail. Nothing can remove the memories, not even happy thoughts, which don't even fee happy when I think about them.

I lay back in my bed, closing my eyes and begging for the sweet release of sleep. It almost works, no thoughts or twisted memories come into my mind until I just feel myself drifting away, causing me to throw myself out of bed and fall on the floor.

I scramble away from the bed until my back is pressed against a wall. My breath quickens and I begin to hyperventilate, expecting at any moment to suddenly see Tyler and have him drag me back to my bed with him.

He never appears though, and I manage to calm myself after a few minutes. I stand, and woozily walk to the bathroom.

Once there, I empty the few things I had eaten into the toilet. I groan and rest my head on the toilet seat.

I sit there for what feels like hours, barely blinking and breathing slowly. Finally, I manage to stand and I fall against the counter. I turn the tap on and let cool water run over my hand, then move and splash it over my face.

It doesn't feel good, don't ask me why people always do it. It's freaking cold.

I shakily inhale and exhale, then look at my reflection in the mirror. I though I looked bad before, but now I look terrible. And it's only been a couple of days. I guess not sleeping will do that to you.

I stand there staring at my reflection, until I finally feel a bit more confident in my ability to walk, then push myself off the counter. I turn and while I'm doing so, I see something sitting on the bathtub edge.

It's the razor I saw the other day.

I look at it and, instead of ignoring it like before, I walk over to it. I pick it up and carefully inspect it, turning it over in my hands and running my fingers over the tiny blades. I've heard of people cutting themselves with razors before, sometimes even killing themselves with them.

I hold the blade to my arm and delicately trace invisible lines over it, not hard enough to make a mark or anything, just enough so I can lightly feel it on my skin.

'Would it feel good? Help me?' I think to myself. Experimentally, I press my thumb onto the blade, hard. There's a slight pain, and I quickly retract my hand. A small cut has opened on my thumb, scarlet liquid dripping lightly from it.

'Nope. Nope. Nope. Not doing that again.'

I quickly rinse the razor under warm water, removing any blood that might have fallen onto it and put it back where I found it.

I basically run out of the bathroom after turning the lights off, not wanting to have any more stupid ideas.

I rush back to my bed and bury my face into the pillows. 'I don't ever want to do that again. I don't want my mind to slip into that type of mindset.' I squeeze my eyes shut and beg for sleep to overtake me.

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I actually did manage to sleep, only for about a hour though. As I did, I was plagued with nightmare again, except these ones where way worse than before. So bad, that when I woke I went into a full fledged panic attack. Ever had a panic attack at four thirty in the morning? It's not fun.

After that, I totally gave up on sleep. I went downstairs and made myself enough coffee that I drank until my parents woke up and watched YouTube with headphones on.

My parents were worried about me when they saw me up earlier than them, but I played it off by telling them I had a rough night what with everything that happened at the trial, and that I was feeling better now.

I've turned into such a liar.

It's just past one now. All I've done is sit and watch stupid T.V. shows, like boring soap operas and unfunny cartoons.

My phone buzzes, and I reluctantly pick it up. Another text from Fisher. Great. Let's add that to the list, it's around the thirtieth I think.

I have no desire to see, talk to, or even think about Fisher. I know it's cruel, but what am I supposed to do? I can't even look at him now without seeing Tyler in my head. I'm scared that if I'm around him for too long I'll have a panic attack.

I let my phone fall out of my hand onto the couch and stand up. I walk out of the house an into the backyard.

It's windy today, not as bad as it had been, but I could still hear the tree's leaves rustling and the trees creaking under the wind's force.

I sit in the grass and let the wind blow my hair around as I think about everything that had happened recently.

Apparently, I had actually blacked out more than I though, because I have was more bruises all over my body that I don't actually remember getting, like the one on my eye. For example.

I lie back in the grass and stare up at the grey and blue sky.

'Is it really worth it? Worth troubling my friends for my problems? Worth trying to fix everything, when eventually people are going to forget about it. When we're just going to die anyways? Forgetting will never make it not real though, but I want it to. I want to forget. I want to restart everything with everyone, forget everything that ever happened between us. Maybe that way, when they stop caring, it won't hurt as much.'

I sigh and close my eyes, letting the darkness of my thoughts overtake me. As I do, I realise something about myself.

I'm broken.

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Don't ever trust me when I say that I'll 'upload two chapters in one day' That's a funny joke. I actually would, but there are two reasons why I didn't. A) I feel awful. Like sick-wise, so yeah. B) I'm kinda having a writers block. Like I have all the ideas and the motivation, I just can't find the right words, or be bothered to put in the effort so my chapters have been lacking lately. Sorry about that. Okay, uh, that's all I got to say. Should I do some sort of goodbye thing? Why not. Uh, bye. 10/10.