I wake up to the phone ringing.
Hauling myself out of bed, I put my guitar back in it's case and make my way out to the lounge room.
Finding the phone, I pick it up and mumble into the receiver.
"Msh, msh"
"Hi Matt, it's Tai!" I hold it a little further away from my head.
"Tai, the phone works fine."
He chuckles. "Just making sure your up, I figured you wouldn't set your alarm, I'll be over in fifteen, can I eat breakfast at you place? My Mum's making something weird again."
"Yeah."
"Cool, see you soon." I place the phone back in it's cradle and look at the clock.
7:15.
Eh.
Early.
I feel like pancakes.
Whilst gathering the ingredients, the pan, the measuring cup and other implements I'll need, I come across the knife in the wrong draw.
I look at it for a second.
The desire's not there.
Funny that, sometimes the need is so great you find yourself with a blade to your skin as soon as you touch it.
And if you can't cut you think about it, and every time you see something remotely sharp you wonder how well it would slice, how much would it take to break skin.
Other times you don't even leave it space in your head.
It gives you a vague sense of satisfaction, a hope that your not totally screwed up, when you find yourself halfway through chopping up the veggies and you didn't think about it, didn't want to do it, didn't remember that you had.
Back before the digital world, I don't think I actually thought about what I was doing to myself, I mean, I knew it was wrong, but if I felt the need, I just did it.
I'm more aware of what it is I'm dealing with now, I try and figure out what the problem is first, ask myself if cutting is really going to fix it, sometimes I remember to, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I cut either way.
I'm flipping the first batch when Taichi let's himself in the door.
"Pancakes Matt, for me?" he dumps his bag on the floor and pulls a chair out from the table to sit down.
"No, they're mine." I chuckle at the mock dejected expression this produces, "But I'll graciously give you one or two."
I slide the pancakes onto the cooling rack and pour another three dollops into the pan.
"You are like, god of the kitchen or something Yama, these are delicious." I turn around to find him already halfway through his first.
"Aren't you going to put anything on them?"
He shrugs. "Next one, what do you want on yours?
"Brown sugar and lemon."
"Hmm, I might have to try that," he gets up and moves over to the fridge. "You had that last time as well." Digging around in the veggie keeper he produces a lemon then fishes the knife out of the draw.
The knife.
I fix my eyes firmly on the pancakes and listen as he slices the lemon into quarters. I can feel my heart pounding, my skin heating up.
What if he finds out?
What would he do?
What if he took it away?
I feel like he could all of a sudden realise, somehow notice.
I want to snatch it away, hide it, I wish I had hidden it.
He doesn't know, but if he did....
He'd think I was....
and....
I can feel myself listening, making sure, double checking, has he noticed?
Of course not.
But has he?
Idiot.
Moron.
Paranoid freak.
How the hell is he supposed to know?
It's just a blasted knife.
Not like it's got a little tag saying, "Cutter, I'm used by a cutter, he's standing right over there." Not like he can see the blood that's been on it before, it's clean, its been washed, it's perfectly innocent.
It's me who's....not.
I shake my head slightly trying to clear it.
Stupid.
The pancakes are over browned. Stove is making me hot.
I flip them. Not me.
I calm down when Tai rinses the knife and returns it to the draw.
Relief. I sigh then catch myself.
I can't believe I just thought that. Idiot.
Idiot.
Idiot.
Idiot.
Humming to himself, Taichi leaps around the table and over to the cupboard where the brown sugar is kept. I smile. Got this image of Tai bouncing around the room. I feel the need to say something.
"So, what'd you and Sora get up to?" Hmm, burnt pancake, I dump them on the rack and grease the pan for the next lot.
I hate it when I feel like that. For some reason you think the world can see.
"Oh, nothing, I just walked her home." His voice is muffled as shuffles the containers about, "You know," he pulls one out. "Next time, we should walk past her place first. Or we can go via mine and you can walk her home."
Odd. "Why?"
It's so obvious to yourself that you wonder how anybody else can miss it.
"I don't know, she's just getting a bit annoying." He shrugs as he checks inside the container plonking himself back in his chair.
"What did she do?" He wrinkles his nose and hops up again.
You think the way your damaging yourself is broadcasted, you check to make sure no ones there when the room's empty, and you check again.
"Nothing really, just being annoying." He comes up beside me and looks over my shoulder picking up the spatular. "Let me cook some while you go get dressed."
Can he see?
"Tai, we still have an hour till we have to leave." I make a grab for the spatular but he holds it out of reach.
No.
"Come on Matt, I promise I won't wreck them."
"No Tai. I'm cooking breakfast."
Do I want him to?
"Yama."
"Go away, and give the spatular back."
Yes, yes I do, I want everyone to know how much pain I'm in, maybe they can fix what I can't.
"Just let me flip one."
"No."
"Come on."
"No."
But at the same time I'm afraid, I don't want them to see, don't want them to know, look at me different, realise I'm weak.
"Please."
"Tai."
"Just one."
"No."
I don't need them to tell me. It would only hurt more.
"You did all those,"
"NO."
If he knew he wouldn't be here.
"One"
He'd leave.
"Oh fine." I hop out of the way.
I'd be alone.
"Two."
At least this way I can hope.
"You said just one."
Even if it would never come true.
"And now I'm flipping all three. Go get dressed." He waved the spatular at me. "Go on, shoo." He happily counts the bubbles before giving me a sly grin. "By the way, nice hair."
I retreat to the bathroom.
Yeah, keep laughing you fatheaded idiotic moron.
There's nothing wrong with my hair. It's just not done yet.
By the time I get back out to the kitchen, the mixing bowl is in the sink, dads tucking into a couple of pancakes and Taichi's drowning a stack in golden syrup and cream he's procured from somewhere.
I sprinkle a liberal amount of brown sugar over my own, squeeze the lemon, and surprise myself by actually eating all four.
I suppose I didn't actually have dinner last night.
Dad thanks me for breakfast before rushing off to work and Taichi settles down to watch the morning cartoons till we have to leave.
I wash like one plate before Taichi comes back into the kitchen to drag me out and force me to watch the show with him.
Oh well, it's mildly entertaining.
Hauling myself out of bed, I put my guitar back in it's case and make my way out to the lounge room.
Finding the phone, I pick it up and mumble into the receiver.
"Msh, msh"
"Hi Matt, it's Tai!" I hold it a little further away from my head.
"Tai, the phone works fine."
He chuckles. "Just making sure your up, I figured you wouldn't set your alarm, I'll be over in fifteen, can I eat breakfast at you place? My Mum's making something weird again."
"Yeah."
"Cool, see you soon." I place the phone back in it's cradle and look at the clock.
7:15.
Eh.
Early.
I feel like pancakes.
Whilst gathering the ingredients, the pan, the measuring cup and other implements I'll need, I come across the knife in the wrong draw.
I look at it for a second.
The desire's not there.
Funny that, sometimes the need is so great you find yourself with a blade to your skin as soon as you touch it.
And if you can't cut you think about it, and every time you see something remotely sharp you wonder how well it would slice, how much would it take to break skin.
Other times you don't even leave it space in your head.
It gives you a vague sense of satisfaction, a hope that your not totally screwed up, when you find yourself halfway through chopping up the veggies and you didn't think about it, didn't want to do it, didn't remember that you had.
Back before the digital world, I don't think I actually thought about what I was doing to myself, I mean, I knew it was wrong, but if I felt the need, I just did it.
I'm more aware of what it is I'm dealing with now, I try and figure out what the problem is first, ask myself if cutting is really going to fix it, sometimes I remember to, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I cut either way.
I'm flipping the first batch when Taichi let's himself in the door.
"Pancakes Matt, for me?" he dumps his bag on the floor and pulls a chair out from the table to sit down.
"No, they're mine." I chuckle at the mock dejected expression this produces, "But I'll graciously give you one or two."
I slide the pancakes onto the cooling rack and pour another three dollops into the pan.
"You are like, god of the kitchen or something Yama, these are delicious." I turn around to find him already halfway through his first.
"Aren't you going to put anything on them?"
He shrugs. "Next one, what do you want on yours?
"Brown sugar and lemon."
"Hmm, I might have to try that," he gets up and moves over to the fridge. "You had that last time as well." Digging around in the veggie keeper he produces a lemon then fishes the knife out of the draw.
The knife.
I fix my eyes firmly on the pancakes and listen as he slices the lemon into quarters. I can feel my heart pounding, my skin heating up.
What if he finds out?
What would he do?
What if he took it away?
I feel like he could all of a sudden realise, somehow notice.
I want to snatch it away, hide it, I wish I had hidden it.
He doesn't know, but if he did....
He'd think I was....
and....
I can feel myself listening, making sure, double checking, has he noticed?
Of course not.
But has he?
Idiot.
Moron.
Paranoid freak.
How the hell is he supposed to know?
It's just a blasted knife.
Not like it's got a little tag saying, "Cutter, I'm used by a cutter, he's standing right over there." Not like he can see the blood that's been on it before, it's clean, its been washed, it's perfectly innocent.
It's me who's....not.
I shake my head slightly trying to clear it.
Stupid.
The pancakes are over browned. Stove is making me hot.
I flip them. Not me.
I calm down when Tai rinses the knife and returns it to the draw.
Relief. I sigh then catch myself.
I can't believe I just thought that. Idiot.
Idiot.
Idiot.
Idiot.
Humming to himself, Taichi leaps around the table and over to the cupboard where the brown sugar is kept. I smile. Got this image of Tai bouncing around the room. I feel the need to say something.
"So, what'd you and Sora get up to?" Hmm, burnt pancake, I dump them on the rack and grease the pan for the next lot.
I hate it when I feel like that. For some reason you think the world can see.
"Oh, nothing, I just walked her home." His voice is muffled as shuffles the containers about, "You know," he pulls one out. "Next time, we should walk past her place first. Or we can go via mine and you can walk her home."
Odd. "Why?"
It's so obvious to yourself that you wonder how anybody else can miss it.
"I don't know, she's just getting a bit annoying." He shrugs as he checks inside the container plonking himself back in his chair.
"What did she do?" He wrinkles his nose and hops up again.
You think the way your damaging yourself is broadcasted, you check to make sure no ones there when the room's empty, and you check again.
"Nothing really, just being annoying." He comes up beside me and looks over my shoulder picking up the spatular. "Let me cook some while you go get dressed."
Can he see?
"Tai, we still have an hour till we have to leave." I make a grab for the spatular but he holds it out of reach.
No.
"Come on Matt, I promise I won't wreck them."
"No Tai. I'm cooking breakfast."
Do I want him to?
"Yama."
"Go away, and give the spatular back."
Yes, yes I do, I want everyone to know how much pain I'm in, maybe they can fix what I can't.
"Just let me flip one."
"No."
"Come on."
"No."
But at the same time I'm afraid, I don't want them to see, don't want them to know, look at me different, realise I'm weak.
"Please."
"Tai."
"Just one."
"No."
I don't need them to tell me. It would only hurt more.
"You did all those,"
"NO."
If he knew he wouldn't be here.
"One"
He'd leave.
"Oh fine." I hop out of the way.
I'd be alone.
"Two."
At least this way I can hope.
"You said just one."
Even if it would never come true.
"And now I'm flipping all three. Go get dressed." He waved the spatular at me. "Go on, shoo." He happily counts the bubbles before giving me a sly grin. "By the way, nice hair."
I retreat to the bathroom.
Yeah, keep laughing you fatheaded idiotic moron.
There's nothing wrong with my hair. It's just not done yet.
By the time I get back out to the kitchen, the mixing bowl is in the sink, dads tucking into a couple of pancakes and Taichi's drowning a stack in golden syrup and cream he's procured from somewhere.
I sprinkle a liberal amount of brown sugar over my own, squeeze the lemon, and surprise myself by actually eating all four.
I suppose I didn't actually have dinner last night.
Dad thanks me for breakfast before rushing off to work and Taichi settles down to watch the morning cartoons till we have to leave.
I wash like one plate before Taichi comes back into the kitchen to drag me out and force me to watch the show with him.
Oh well, it's mildly entertaining.