I hate it here.
I hate her.
The only one I don't hate isn't home anymore.
This isn't "home" to me anyway.
It's just a house.
I'm tired of it all.
Just because she does nice things doesn't take away all of the bad.
It still stabs me.
And even if it heals, it will always leave a scar.
I will always remember.
Will it ever stop?
She says she's sorry, but is she sincere?
I can tell she is not.
She lives in denial.
Denial of my condition, my feelings, my doubts…
It's like she's perfect.
And I have to be too.
But I'm not.
I never will be.
I'm a mess, and I know that.
Why can't she accept that?
Why can't she accept me?
What am I to her anyway?
A burden? A mistake?
I think I am.
No, I know I am.
My whole existence was an accident.
Everyone knows it too.
Just who am I?
I'm lost.
I'm breaking again.
I don't know how to fix it.
I feel hopeless.
Troubled.
Depressed.
Lie after lie I tell myself, but I can't stop.
I don't want to believe it, but I do.
I'm so confused.
So, so confused.
I feel abandoned.
I feel lonely.
But I want to be alone.
I want to be away from everyone.
Away from them.
The confusion never stops.
I'm done.
But I want to press on.
I give up, but I'm trying not to.
Mostly because of my brother.
I love him too much to let him go.
He's the only one who can bring a smile on my face.
If I gave up now, where would all my joy go?
But honestly, how much longer can I go on?
I don't know.
I'm so confused.
I'm practically dead, like a ghost.
I just exist without a purpose, walking right by those who step all over me.
Where do I go? What should I do next?
With tears blossoming in his dull violet eyes, the boy shut his small notebook gingerly and tucked it away in the very back of his drawer; hidden away from the world. No one could know about his thoughts. Nor did he want anyone to know. All he wanted was to be happy, but that was a feeling he had never known.
It was difficult to do so, but slowly he rose from his bed, stretching his aching limbs from his restless sleep. Next, he slipped on his glasses and a large hooded sweatshirt, all while wondering how he was going to make his appearance downstairs. Step by careful step he walked through the hallway, hearing the floorboards creak below him, and soon he was halfway down the stairs. His mother could hear him, and his stomach began to stir with uneasiness. "M-Morning." He blurted out stupidly, racing down the last few steps and darting into the kitchen, trying to find something to occupy himself with. Breakfast, he decided, would be a nice choice. "I'll make pancakes," He muttered in her direction, trying not to make eye contact, "Do you want any?"
"No."
And that was the end of that. Matthew sighed as he stood at the counter fixing his breakfast that he would eat alone. As usual. It was nothing new, and he was used to it all. He didn't mind though. Why would he want to be around the person who hated him most?
"Is the paper here?"
"It's Sunday."
"O-Oh, right..." He paused, looking into the cabinets for a few measuring cups, "Did you want me to fix the roof today? It looks like-"
"You'll fail."
"..W..What? But Moth-"
"You'll fail. You hear me? And don't try to tell me otherwise."
"Y-Yes Mother.."
Matthew took a moment to calm his thoughts as he made his meal, pouring the pancake batter onto a hot skillet and watching them rise as he clutched the counter with one of his pale hands. "You know, maybe she's right." He whispered to himself, taking a spatula and flipping the cakes when needed, "I do fail a lot, so what makes me think today would be different?"
"Alfred can do anything. You can't. You're just wasted space."
The words came back to him, just filling his thoughts with lies, but he had to believe them. There was nothing else to believe. It was true that his brother was better than he was at everything, except schoolwork. But apparently that didn't matter. No, as long as he had looks, talent, potential... Than he was basically living the dream.
Matthew, on the other hand, was living a nightmare.
The smell of burning pancakes woke him out of his daze as he quickly flipped his breakfast onto a plate, being careful not to burn himself as he moved them around with his bare hand. Next came maple syrup of course, and finally he sat down at the table and quietly ate his meal alone, looking around his house to pass the time.
It wasn't well kept, to say the least. The paint was starting to peel, there were cracks visible on the floors, and it was no help that Matthew wasn't allowed to fix simple things around the house... But somehow it still stayed standing.
The blonde boy stood from his spot and went to clean his dishes to avoid being yelled at, and then decided to make a run to his room once more. That seemed to be the only place he felt somewhat safe. The door was shut behind him, and he could breathe a bit easier. Especially when he opened the screened window in his small room. He carefully sat on his mattress, laying back with his hands behind his head, and for once everything seemed so peaceful. That is, until his small mobile phone rang on the dresser next to his bedside. Wearily, he looked at it.
It was his brother, Alfred. He answered it, holding the speaker slightly away from his ear.
"Hey Mattie! It's me!"
"Hey Al. Is something up?"
"Dude, you won't believe it!"
Matthew sat up, bringing his knees to his chest and asked the dreaded question, "What?"
"We're coming to visit!"
Violet eyes widened, and Matthew audibly let out a small gasp. "Y-you're what?"
Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed.
Please review if you have the time.
-Feli
(Fun fact... Matthew'sjournalentryisfrommyowndiary...)
