I lied on my bed, the shouting of my parents echoing up into my room. I looked to the phone that lied on my stomach.
They told me whenever I needed to talk to just text them.
I had. But they didn't text back. They used to. They used to text back almost instantly. But the more that the years passed by the less they texted back. The less they talked to me. I almost felt isolated. Scratch that. I did feel isolated.
I felt like screaming. I felt like crying. How much longer did I have to keep my 'happy mask' on? I tried to distract myself from the pain and isolation with things like writing and science and even a bit of music, but no matter what I did, I was always criticized.
It's like no matter what I do, I can't do it right.
Raphael didn't talk to me anymore. He stopped two months ago.
Leonardo didn't talk to me anymore. He stopped a month ago.
Michelangelo didn't talk to me anymore. He stopped a week ago.
I sighed. They had strong relationships with each of their parents. I don't, I think bitterly.
Before I know it, my glasses are steamed up with fog. I place my index and middle finger against my cheek. Funny, I think, I hadn't realized that I had been crying.
I wasn't too sure about my mother's new boyfriend. He criticized me a lot. But he made my mother so happy. Joy I couldn't personally give her. I can't make her proud like the way I want to. She just needs him to make her happy.
My father's girlfriend was nice. I liked her daughter very much. She was just as temperamental as Raphael. But I can't really bond with my father, or his girlfriend, and what can I do with my little sisters without being yelled at for a possible danger to themselves? I'm so much bigger than they are.
"Just one big failure." I mutter, hugging my pillow close to my chest.
"Shut up, Donatello."
"Stop talking, Donatello."
"Can you do one thing right?"
"Hi." I had said cheerfully.
"Bye." They had told me.
Isolation.
What an ugly word.
I hate that word.
Mainly because it pertains to me so much.
"You have such a boring life."
"Have you created the world yet?"
"Stop talking!"
"Would you shut up?"
I hate my voice.
It just gets me into more trouble than good. I've tried to become a mute before. It never lasted for more than three hours.
I want to change myself.
I just want people to like me.
Everyone I meet just runs away from me.
They hate me.
Am I really that bad an author?
Scientist?
Musician?
"Don't get close to people," I had taught myself that a long time. "If you don't get close to anyone, you won't get hurt." Yet I didn't heed my own warnings. Now the guys are gone. And it hurts.
I just want to be cool.
I want people to think of me not as an outcast but as somebody. I want to matter. How can I when people just tear me down?
"What did I do wrong? I'm sorry." I say looking at the ceiling.
Shut up, Donatello.
"I'm sorry."
Shut up.
"I'm sorry."
I said shut up!
I close my mouth.
Don't speak. It makes everything worse.
Maybe it actually does.
I look back to the cell phone on my stomach. It hadn't vibrated. It hadn't dinged. There was no sign of anyone trying to contact me.
No one cared.
Why do I insist on trying to fit in? Even your 'friends' don't talk to you.
What happened to you guys? Did I do something wrong?
Leonardo, I thought of you as a big brother. You used to be protective of me. You used to allow me to confide in you. You used to.
Raphael, I thought of you as my older brother. You used to be protective of me. You used to fight for me. You used to care. You used to.
Michelangelo, I thought of you as my little brother. You used to always talk to me. You used to love doing stuff with me. You used to love seeing me walk through that door at school. to.
Michelangelo, I thought of you as my little brother. You used to always talk to me. You used to love doing stuff with me. You used to love seeing me walk through that door at school. You used to.
That's in the past.
We don't talk anymore.
We don't call anymore.
We don't text anymore.
I never actually realized how silent my phone was without you guys. Now it just sits there. It looks as if it could be turned off. I might as well just throw it out the window.
That's how silent it is.
It's worthless.
I have no other friends.
I hurt my ankle today.
Right in front of you guys.
You didn't care.
It still throbs in pain as it lies against the black bed sheet. I only wish that that mattered. Well, it doesn't. No one cares about the pain that tears me apart physically and mentally.
Do you know what it feels like?
Imagine someone taking your brain in their hands. Their bare, ice cold, dead, hands. Now imagine their sharp nails digging into the soft tissue of your fragile organ. Now imagine the tissue breaking into two pieces, one in each hand. A left brain, and a right brain. Now useless to you. They can't function. But they did feel that brief second of pain before they were completely torn into two.
My logic and emotions were at war.
My logic to fight in. To realize why everyone hates me.
My emotions such as sadness. Anger. Pain. Isolation.
They don't know which to let take over. At one moment I feel sad, then I feel as if I need to work. Then I feel angry, then I feel the need to write. Then I feel pain, then I feel the need to confide. Then I feel isolation, then I feel the need to ride my bike and see other people.
I watch my phone. I wait to hear a ding. I wait to feel any vibrations.
I wait.
I wait for four hours.
That's how desperate I am.
Four hours.
Then I fall asleep, tear streaks staining my face, my eyes aching.
My phone slips off of my stomach.
It falls to the floor.
It smashes.
The glass breaks.
The microchips destroy.
The phone itself shatters.
Hey, guys. Today hasn't been a great one. I did hurt my ankle. I'm fine, though, I can assure you. It's just sore. It's just one of those days that you want to curl into a little ball and cry. I guess that Donatello is kind of me in this story. I was listening to the song 'When You're Gone' by Avril Laveign and I guess I just kind of wanted to right about my sucky day. Yeah, this was short and very upsetting, but it's how I feel, and I needed to write this. Please don't be upset that this is so sad because you guys make me so happy. I love to see that people actually enjoy my stories. So thanks for taking the time to read this. Did you like it, love it, hate it? Let me know. Your opinion matters. :)