Trigger Warning: Sexual, emotional, physical, verbal abuse, self harm, suicide, substance abuse, mental health
Another morning. I open my eyes to an empty door frame past an emptier bookshelf, peering back at me.
My mom, a caring woman as much as she was strict (which she was very much of both) had taken my door a long while back. At first it was because of my habit of slamming it when we got in an argument but it became a much more valid reason over time, which was to keep me from harming myself, smoking weed, and having sex. But those are long, long stories for another day or year or so. Depends on when I get around to it.
I grab my phone and check the time. "Shit.." my inner monologue exclaims. 7:23. I was late. Not late to school. Just late to meeting up with all my friends before school and smoking.
I had woken up to the morning bustle of my older sibling and younger brother preparing for a day at school and my mom preparing for a day of cleaning up messes.
She had gone on a rant the other day- yesterday- as she picked me up from a Starbucks thirty miles from home.
I had taken the bus to visit a friend who I discovered worked for a cartel that day. That was after I knocked on the door of one of the cartel members' houses whom I was not familiar with. My friend (who I had met at the psych ward) answered, he told me I was lucky one of his friends didn't answer as I probably would have been sex trafficked had that been the case. But I have a habit of knocking on death's door and surviving with nothing more than a scar. This time, I was lucky enough to survive with no scars.
Anyways, as my mom drove me the thirty miles back to the house and the extra fourteen to therapy, she went on a very long rant. I don't blame her for it. She was talking about how cleaning up messes consumed her life. "I was planning on de-cluttering the chicken coop of feces when you texted me," she said "but then I had to drive all the way out here to pick you up. It's one mess after the other. I never get a break."
Another morning, another day, another bowl of stale corn flakes and oat milk. Munching on my cereal, I message Jonathan, my boyfriend. I love him. I've known him for about nine months now. The first time we met I was running from my mom. She had beaten me for yelling at her and leaving the house without permission.
What she does isn't good, but she's convinced herself it helps me. I can't blame her after all I've put her through.
I love Jonathan very much. He makes me feel safe. He protects me. I have nightmares of being raped by my exes and feeling guilty. As if it was my fault.
This thing happens a lot where I'm horny and I'm with someone I like and we have sex but I cant tell if its just me being horny or if I actually want to have sex. Being horny and consenting to sex are very different things. It's something a lot of people don't understand. I can't call it rape unless I never said yes or tried to say no because there needs to be an indication that I want to stop- or that I never wanted to start in the first place- and a refusal to stop from the other person, or at least that's how I think it works. Anyways, with Jonathan I've never felt like I wanted to stop but I couldn't say anything, I always feel comfortable telling him. There's this blurry line between sexual assault and not speaking your mind.
It reminds me of the first time I lost my virginity, I was thirteen- for reference I'm fourteen now- and I wish I didn't lose it so young. I wish I waited till sixteen at least.
Maybe I should stop having sex entirely until I'm sixteen.
I lost my virginity to a person named Harper. They're non binary. Turns out they're also asexual. They consented when we had sex but i kept asking if they wanted to stop and they said no.
It was the worst sex I've ever had but I didn't care, I was practicing for my boyfriend at the time, Carlos. He raped me several times. I can barely tell sex apart from rape. But when it comes to Jonathan its always so comfortable and it feels like sex. Hot, passionate, steamy sex.
Now Haper is accusing me of sexual assault. I can't live with being a rapist. I remember I got accused of forcing girls to flash their tits at my residential. I never forced them, I didn't even bring up the idea. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm gay. I cried so much after those accusations. Rapists are evil. They deserve no mercy. People who sexually harass or assault others should be acceptions to my anti capitol punishment stance. Well, I don't think they should be killed by the government, I think if someone with the right motive happens to kill them it shouldn't be taken as a criminal offense.
I finished eating my cereal and got dressed. The same pants I wear every day that stink of sweat and weed. The dark red cotton shirt I wore a few days ago. The purple bra that my friend Audra gave me. The plaid blue boxers. I would wear a binder but they always make me stink of body odor. It just absorbs all of it and then I smell like a weird mix of kabob and armpits. That was probably because I wouldn't shower once a day. Recently, I've begun putting a lot of effort into showering once I get home every day. I've been smelling a lot better.
I grabbed my bag, quickly checking to be sure I had all my materials needed for the school day. I grab an apple before heading out the door.
The walk to school always goes by much faster when I listen to music. Music absorbs my consciousness. When I'm listening to a song I go into the song, I feel the song, I become the song. Music means a lot to me. I love moody punk rock and german/russian post punk. I put on the song "what happened sofie?" by "I Hate Myself Because" and head up the hill towards school.
On the way to school I see my friend's english teacher, Mr. Guerra. When people talk about him they always call him the gay teacher or the fruity one. He has a husband and sometimes after school they spend time at the park together. They have both seen me smoke weed with my friends or alone.
Smoking is a daily thing for me, usually I do it after school but I'd regularly indulge myself by smoking in the mornings or during the lunch break at school. Weed wasn't the only substance I've experimented with. I've tried acid, shrooms, molly, meth, and alcohol. My favorites are definitely shrooms, molly, weed, and malibu coconut rum.
My first time drinking coconut rum was actually with Harper. They're the only reason I even know about it. Losing Harper is my biggest regret, aside from dating my ex Carlos. Carlos actually brought the end to me and Oli's relationship.
Sometimes I'd steal malibu or whiskey or vodka from the local CVS. I was good at it too. Mostly because I wear all black covering clothes, I'm white, and I'm assigned female at birth so I have a voice that could be described as hypnotizing.
I arrived at school. Of course covid is still a thing so I put on my mask and do the daily pass. Good to go.
I walk in and I see my close friend and ex, Axel. He's talking with a few of his friends and Beck. I immediately turn to check if Jonathan has arrived yet. He hasn't. Olivia hasn't either.
I walk a lap around the school with Beck, as we always do. We come back around to the front of the school. Jonathan is here, so is Olivia.
I go to P.E. with Oli. We have it the same period but different teachers. Sid is sitting next to her. I hate Sid. She led Axel on. She tried leading Oli on too but luckily it didn't work because I'm pretty sure Olis still hung up on her ex, which isn't so lucky but oh well.
There's this girl in my P.E. class who has a pet pigeon. She's giving it to me because the pigeon hates her. I don't remember her name but she's really nice.
Second period rolls around. Biology with Beck. He talks a lot. He has ADHD though. I do too, I just like biology.
Lunch. I hit a blinker on my friend Devon's cake. I hug Jonathan, we take shrooms together.
Third period. Video production. I do a practice job interview with three obnoxious girls and play on my phone while Oli takes over the project. Speaking of, I need to facetime her tonight and talk about it so I know how to present it.
Fourth period. English. Last english period my teacher was having a really bad day last class so I decided to harass him. "Mister, homie to homie, you should probably talk to a counselor.", "Mister, there are nicer ways to say that", "Mister, Jessica did nothing wrong, Mister."
The last bell rang. It's a tuesday. Time to unwind. I head towards the park where I meet a few friends and we smoke. Jonathan can't hang out after school because of his dad, so I go home early, smelling like weed.
Once Im home I jump in the shower, high as fuck, music playing from my speaker. I spend a good minute in the shower dancing and singing and talking to myself, waiting for the high to wear off. This was a good high. I remembered I had also taken shrooms earlier during lunch. I turn off the shower and go to my room. I should definitely do laundry but I could also put it off another day, which is what I decided to do.
I spend the evening browsing my phone and intermittently completing math and english homework. My english teacher keeps giving me D's on everything. I get the sudden urge to write. I remember there's this notebook from sixth grade that I used to write stories in. I began looking for it. Once I found it, I copied down a paragraph of a story…
"Returning to my room, I dressed into something more appropriate for today's ventures, which would consist of hunting for food. After going outside to hunt, I heard a few wild turkeys and followed the squabble. I carefully maneuvered through trees and bushes and discovered a creek at which several turkeys were drinking and socializing amongst one another. I began to daydream of the feast these turkeys would produce. Sliding my knife from my belt, I lunged towards the turkeys. The rest is blurry."
Sixth grade writing is funny. I look up writing prompts. "1100+ Creative Writing Prompts To Inspire You Right Now". Sounds good. "$250". Oh? Two hundred and fifty dollars? I began writing…
"Another Day
Another Morning. I open my eyes to an empty door frame past an emptier bookshelf, peering back at me."
