Vituperation

Inauguration

I'm sorry. 

I sat on my bed, watching my father scold me. "We've waisted so much money on you, Julie. How have you repaid us? Huh? You sit in your room all day, waisting your life on your computer, Julie. You really are pathetic, Julie." I feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

Then he leaves my room, closing the door. I feel the tears run down my cheek. I take my phone and laptop and run to my bathroom, locking the door behind me, praying my mom won't find out I'm crying and find a way to open the lock. I put the toilet seat down and sit on top of it, curling up in a ball after putting on Blurryface by twenty one pilots on blast. I let the tears run down my cheeks. I let the music play through my mind; the lyrics embracing my soul and thoughts. I think back to two years ago. I was depressed for the same reason as I have witnessed just seconds ago. I think back to when I did all those things, and when people thought I was weird. It was his pressure. I couldn't take it. I lost it. 

But it's all over as of last year, when the school forced my parents to get me therapy since the school didn't think it was appropriate to have someone as ill-minded as me in their building. They let me stay, though, as long as my parents 'fix' me... and sign a contract saying they would do so. 

I text one of my closer friends, seeing if maybe I could get some consolation but I got no such luck. No response. I listen to the music a bit more, alone on my toilet seat, until I hear a very loud knock on the bathroom door. I pause the music and ask "yes?" very lightly, hoping whoever was there wouldn't hear the pain in my voice. 

"Dinner's ready", my dad responds. I wait to hear him leave my room and then get off the toilet seat. I look at the mirror, noticing that my whole face is red - obviously. I turn the tap on, as cold as it can get, and splash some of the cold water on my face. I close the laptop and leave it there. Then, unlocking the door, I took a tissue and blew my nose very quietly so they wouldn't hear me. I walked out of my room and through the dark hallway that lead to the second floor, kitchen and living room. I went through the door that led to the living room, because between the kitchen and living room was the dining room. Sitting down on my chair, I look at the food on the table - fried cauliflower. I was about to take one when I stopped myself. Seeing my father out the corner of my eye sent chills through my whole body. Waiting for my mom to get to the table, I looked at my plate and tried to align it perfectly with the matt under it. Somehow. But soon, my mom sat down and we all started filling our plates with food. I ate the least because I didn't feel hungry for once. 

I finished quickly because their presence and small talk made me uncomfortable. I put my plate and glass in the kitchen and walked back to my room, closing my door behind. Walking back into the bathroom, I turn the music back on and lock the door again. But I can't cry this time. I'm too strong. That's my problem - I can only cry when I've been broken extremely hard. It's like glass. If you shatter me, I'm shattered. If I'm not broken, however, I stand strong even if I don't want to or don't feel strong at all. I never knew why but I told myself it was because of all the suffering I went through in my depressive phase. I checked my phone to see if my friends answered, but I was still out of luck. I gave up on crying like a little bitch in the bathroom and walked back to my bedroom, sitting on my bed and turning Netflix on on my laptop. I continued watching Jessica Jones. I picked my phone up, just about to text my boyfriend. Then I realised he hasn't responded me since early afternoon. That generally meant he was off cheating on me with one specific person. I ignored it - I was used to it. Ever since he accidentally started cheating, it became a habit, and I knew about it since the beginning. I find problems are easier to solve by ignoring them. 

I put my phone back down and focus on the show, ignoring my surroundings and locking myself in the world of Jessica Jones. It was my way of escaping my problems and everyone else's. By watching videos. But the problem was that time went by quickly, and I'd often forget about important things, like the fact that it was time for me to sleep. Normally, sleep time wouldn't be a concern for someone my age but if I went to sleep later than ten my parents would get mad at me. I quickly plugged my laptop and phone in and covered myself. Instead of sleeping, however, I let my previous thoughts run through my head. I let the pain sink in: I am just a waist of money.