Sensitive [Phan]

13 - T H I R T E E N - 13

   After Dan leaves, I feel a quite bad for angering him. I shouldn't have acted the way I did towards him, without thinking or worrying about how it might effect him. Thinking of it now, that's how I always treat him, but I never challenge him the way I did today.

   Not wanting to deal with my melancholic thoughts, I grab my phone and go online.  I spend most my time on Snapchat and Twitter. Replying, posting, liking, following. Rinse and repeat. A certain picture catches my eyes. Its a picture of Dan from 10 minutes ago. The joggers he grabbed from my floor cover his long legs and fit him loosely do to his thinness. The thought of Dan's skin being so close to something I own made me shiver inside. I feel happy until I start to read the caption.

Sometimes I get disappointed by the stupidest things and the stupidest people. Why do those people have to push me to my breaking point. Sometimes I wonder if they break too.

  I relate everything he says to me. The post is obviously about how rude I was to him earlier. Everything I do is bad. I'm such a failure. My mind starts to wander.

   "Why are you so god damn sensitive?! Your an idiot." Dan's voice echos in my head, telling me what he really thinks.

I put my phone down in defeat, not even bothering to lock it or shut it off.  I stand up to look in the mirror.

  "Jesus. How can you be so ugly. Dan was probably grossed out when he saw you. Your fat and ugly, you really think anyone could love you."  Voices fill my head and cloud my thoughts. 

   I know. I know I'll never find love, no one will love me. I know I'm fat and ugly. I should just give up. I should just go eat because no one will love me either way. 

Yes, Phil, but eating makes you sick. 

Yes, mind, but not eating makes me sick too.

Mhmm, but only one makes you look better.

Shut up. Go away. I don't want to listen to you. 

I struggle to grab my phone and put earbuds in, blasting songs at full volume. 

You can't tune me out . You couldn't and still can't. So just give in. I know you want to. You know you deserve this.

I look up from my position on the floor, meeting my eyes with the ones in the mirror. Dark bags hang under them and tears threaten to spill. Pathetic. 

Yea? You are just now realizing this? 

I close my eyes and fall onto my back, throwing my hands above my head. They hit a small box from under my bed, causing warm pools to stream from my eyes. My hand is not in pain, however knowing whats in the container and knowing my current state I feel myself sinking, crumbling to my own mind.

Phil, What's in the box? Mhmm? Maybe you need a reminder?

Memorize of blood fill my mind, making me cry even more. I reach for the box, hoping to make myself feel better. I sit up with my legs sprawled out in front of me. Pulling the box onto my lap, I wipe the tears from my face. 

Come on, open it.

I weakly put my hand to the box and push open lid slowly. 

Razors.

Pain.

Blood.

Tears.

Numb.

Silence.

I feel successful as the voice in my head goes away. I practically crash into bed as waves of numbness wash over me. Sure I may not feel anything, but at least it's silent now. I know I'm sinking. Again. Just like always. I may try to swim, but I'll always sink. You can only swim for so long in an ocean of self doubt. I stare out to the void around me. The ocean that has engulfed me. My chest is heavy from the water seeping into my lungs. I might be sinking, I may not be able to see, but at least it is silent.