in the meaninglessness
of her life at 18 years old, she hoped that void would be fulfilled with
a boy or a girl and love on a computer screen.
so she could have a
purpose: a core just like the center of the earth that kept it functioning and
supporting life.
when she was younger,
she was bullied at first for not having clothes bought from department stores
in malls that were advertised in magazines, television commercials, and music
videos. clothes are clothes, but these clothes had some particular type of
animal sewn into them like a deer, a horse, or a elephant, or had the name of
the brand strewn boldly across the shirt so everyone who passed and saw knew
where it was purchased and how much it costs, which meant something.
she shopped at thrift
stores or got hand me downs from her older brothers, sisters or cousins, which
were noticeably faded and not brand new.
her peers would take
photos of her without her noticing or permission, and create meme's or posts on
social media sites using those pictures of her on how one should never dress,
with titles like, "how to never attract a boy", or "2017 freak
show aka failed science experiment" or "worst dressed/ugliest
bitch/thing at soloman high march 2017." "faggot" the responses
by her fellow classmates from both female and male students did not defend her,
but supported the post or meme's message:
"i mean can't even
try to look at that. scumbag. lol. it's not that hard try lookin in a fucking
mirror!"
"it has nice ass
but it's all fake, and i ain't fuckin that unless there's a bag on whatever you
want to call it's head, strip it nude and drove its stanky ass through the
nearest car wash, triple wrap my dick, close my eyes, try not to puke, and get
paid a million dollars. na fuck that 200 million. haha"
each day was hell. she
was taciturn and a recluse, and never told her parents about anything because
they had their own bullshit about: working, paying the normal bills and her
therapy, and trying to hold their marriage together in the meantime. They already
had put up with enough of her problems; they couldn't be bothered anymore. so
she started searching the internet not for fashion tips, like she used too, but
on ways on how to commit suicide. most people don't realize this section of the
internet exists, but it does, and is visited by more troubled teens and adults
than a normal person can imagine. for some it's just a cry for attention, but
for others it is a way to learn and how to teach.
suspension hanging. drug
overdose. cutting the wrist deep into the arteries and vertically so they can't
be stitched back together. procuring a lethal dose of nembutal from the
internet. jumping off a bridge, or any tall building. a bullet to the binary.
she studied the methods,
and the only three that were doable were hanging, cutting, or jumping since she
didn't know where to buy drugs, didn't have a credit card to order any off
line, and her parents' were against guns and hunting all together.
each night she practiced
hanging ethernet cords from the beams in her closet, trying to cut off her
carotid artery, which stops blood flow to the brain, and will make a human
being go completely unconscious in 5-15 seconds, becoming braindead without
medical assistance in 10 minutes, and completely dead in around 20. but each
time she tried, she messed up, cutting off her jugular causing her head to
swell with blood, and a violent headache, which lasted for an hour or so after
each practice attempt—the failure pulsing along with her brain. she tried new
materials (scarfs, shoelaces, ropes, bungee cords, and even a twisted up
bedsheet) and variations on the technique, but to no avail.
"wow, i'm such a
fuck up i can't even figure out how to kill myself properly," she muttered
to herself before she went to bed, staring up at the fading glowing stars that
hung from her ceiling thinking how she is not made for this world but is too
inept or maybe too scared to escape it.
but one day, she checked
her social media page, which she was in the midst of contemplating deleting,
and there was a message notification, and from a boy no less.
"hey i know you
dont know me, but i came across your profile through a mutual friend pop up
notification thing on the people you may know and clicked on your profile. i
dont know if you have a boyfriend or anything, but if you dont i just wanted to
say i think you're really cute. and i was able to see some of the art you drew,
and think you are really talented. and like a lot of the bands you like. i hope
im not being a creep but msg me back if you want to talk or anything. i go to
scranton, which is a couple of school district away duh you probably know
that but okay ill be waiting. have a good night."
she reread the message
over and over again, trying to think of some way to respond that wouldn't make
her sound stupid, desperate or like an idiot.
his name was lucas. he
had short black hair that was kind of messy and neat all at the same time. from
his pictures he looked semi popular, and got invited to parties. there were
pictures of him holding beers, and plastic handles of bottom shelf vodka. her
favorite one was of him with his eyes closed hugging a black cat's paws around
his shoulders completely at ease.
for the first time in
weeks, nooses, hanging off bridges, and razorblades slicing skin weren't at the
forefront of her mind, it was lucas's tawny face, lip ring, and brown eyes.
she responded a day
later:
"hey sorry for the
delay. just been busy with homework and stuff. but i dont find you creepy at
all. i actually think you're really cute and sweet. thank you for the
compliments on my drawings, i mean they suck, but i'm glad you like them. i
love your lip ring. when did you get it? oh yeah, definitely send me some
bands, im always looking for some new good music. and to answer your question,
no i do not have a boyfriend, but am currently looking for one if he's the
right guy (-; if you're not busy sometime maybe we can get together. msg me
back if i didn't scare you off and you’re interested."
the school week went by
with the same bullshit, as she sat by herself at lunch with her hoodie over her
head, headphones in, reading ned vizzini's it's kind of a funny story,
and the oregon trail is the oregon trail by gregory sherl
eating an apple and a xannie bar for lunch. ignoring the outside world, and
just thinking of what lucas was up to right now.
he messaged her a couple
times throughout the day, the last one being a skull emoticon = high school.
it kept her distracted,
and her mind at ease.
she asked him if he
wanted to hang out and go see a movie this weekend or something, but lucas messaged
back saying he had to go out of town with his parent's, "you know, just
another dumb family function. sry. but send me a pic of what you look like
tonight, and we can pretend we're hanging out lol. i'll do the same. (-;"
she was somewhat
disappointed, but hey with technology today you can still see each other and
sort of hang out, just in a digitized manner. but fuck it something is better
than nothing.
so she did her eyeliner,
green/teal eye shadow, soft pink lipstick, and rest of her make-up, slipped on
a tight black dress trying to show off the best of her features without being
too forward or slutty, and did her hair up to the best of her ability.
after ten tries, she
finally took a pic she liked, her head to to the side, with her chestnut eyes
looking away, but still big, bright, and enticing, hair and pose as perfect and
attractive as she could be, and sent it to lucas with the caption, "wish u
were here." even though she preferred to use real words in text messages
then abbreviations because they seemed childish, but in this situation to her,
it seemed cute.
two minutes later, she
got a response, "youre so hawt. i wish i was too," with a pic of his
straight black bangs covering his one eye, his other blue eye visible, and pale
white face in a frown.
she felt a warm glow
inside as if someone stoked a fire, and started cooking marshmallows over the
warm red coals.
"it's okay. you're
so handsome. dont be sad. we will see each other soon!"
over the next couple of
days the bullying still continued, but so did the conversations and pictures
with lucas. she still had visions of a noose hanging from a tree limb, od'ing
on drugs, or a bullet passing through brain matter, but they were less frequent
cause now she also had visions of infatuation, attraction, and what could be
the kindling of love.
as she lain in bed after
taking two xanax, she touched herself through her teal lace thong and
masturbated scrolling through the pics of lucas before passing out, falling
into her unconscious dreams and fantasies.
