The cries of the silent

Two Birds On A Wire- Regina Spektor

I feel the adrenaline pulsing through my veins as I battle the crowd of the student body to my next class. I smell too much perfume, then body odor. Sweat makes itself known in the hallway of kids packed as tight as sardines. All of us are on autopilot.

Point A to point B. Pause to converse at stop C. Listen to the bell that has conditioned us to head in our respected directions without further words between friends.

Well. That's how it used to be. Here I am . In my senior year and i haven't made a single friend. I cant. I'm too antsy to even introduce myself properly. Yet I can watch all these other kids my age laugh, socialize, and have a good time. A good life. I used to have that... Friends, and energy. But the older I got, the worse everything else got. Especially once I realized how fake everything was.

Grades? Hypothetical.

Energy? Enzymes in the brain.

Love? A superficial chemical reaction.

Sobriety? Unbearable.

Parents? Neglectful.

What even is childhood? What is being able to run and play with other kids and not be beaten up for being different? What is being able to come home to a house not scattered in garbage, drugs, and broken dreams? Someone, tell me. What is it like to know for sure you'll always have food on the table, and electric. What's it like not having to panic when someone knocks on the door and pray it isn't cops when no one is home.

Do you know how hard it is whenever your father stops going to work so he can spend his whole day out and about sleeping with people?

I recall much to vividly, sitting on the cold wooden floor of my living room and bawling because I wasn't a good enough child to be enough to help my dad through his problems. I was Insignificant. I just wanted to be a priority. "If you were better, he wouldn't leave." I told myself. The constant bashing on myself was far to much to handle.

You cant give up....He needs you.

I knew how much those words weren't true. But I had to keep chanting them. Anything to stay alive. I recall calling a friend from the cold concrete slab in front of our long forgotten fireplace. It went like this:

"Am I a bad kid?" I sobbed.

"Wait, what's going on?!" Concern laced her words.

"h-He left again... I cant even keep my own damn dad around." I cried out.

"Jay, just... just eat something and go to bed... You're a good kid. You're an amazing friend... He's an idiot."

"...There's nothing to eat." I admitted, embarrassed.

"What?! He left you there without food?!" She yelled. I heard her mother in the background just as pissed. I knew I was going to go into a panic attack if I didn't hang up soon.

"Wait, I found soup." I lied. "I'll message you tomorrow." I lied. I went to bed hungry.

I should have been thankful for that friend... I cut her off. She didn't deserve me anyway. I hope she has a new best friend. One who isn't so dependent on her as I was. She deserves to be able to take it easy.

I'd wake up and go to bed with the same old coffee cups lined on the counters. Grossly filled with old coffee and some odd white froth beginning to form floating in the surface of the coffee. Every dish we owned was stacked in the sink. before you think "Why couldn't you clean up yourself?" I Had school from 6:20-2:44. After that, I had an hour long bus ride home. As some of you may know, depression causes an inescapable sense of exhaustion. By the time I walked into the house, I could hardly stay awake enough to eat, if I could find anything.

"I'm going out. I'll be back later." I heard this sentence so often. It was virtually the only time I would ever hear my dad's voice. It broke my heart every time I heard them. My dad hardly ever talked to me. When He did, It'd go like this.

"I wish someone would help me through my depression"

"I'm trying, dad. "

"I know."

"I love you dad..."

"I love you too."

"I'm going to go to bed."

"See? You don't really care... You don't want to hang out with me. I should just put a bullet in my head."

"No no no, dad. You shouldn't. I swear, I just need to sleep. I have a test tomorrow."

I'd go to bed. I'd stare in the closet, for that was the only light in my room that worked...

....you can do it...

                     ....he wouldn't notice....

...Nothing would hurt anymore...

But I knew far too well that suicide wasn't a choice. I Just wanted my dad to be a dad. I needed a parent. I had fucked up when I left my mother. She couldn't know about this... I couldn't leave him like this. That's a shitty thing to do. But I knew he was toxic. I was literally losing everything by living there.

I could now tuck my fingers under my rib cage. I had grown so used to smiling and being  obnoxious at school. No one ever noticed to difference in my behavior. I was always a good actor...