Thanks for the reviews guys. I am going to address them now, rather than PM you all.
UnlikelyPFfan: The only reason I'm keeping him oblivious is because it's canon that way. In "Act Your Age", Phineas doesn't realize Isabella loves him until the end of summer right before college. So it's only right that I try to stay true to that.
Yarthayaj'knaushtavdhladleklwa: Sort of on the first one. And maybe on the second one. It plays out as it goes.
Dreadwing216: I think everyone does. *smirk*
Okay, here we go. This chapter may be a bit more personal to me so please go easy on calling it out for "realistic" and such.
I couldn't focus at all during cheer practice. I kept messing up the routine, causing the other girls to lose focus as well. It was hopeless. My mind was in Phineas-land and wouldn't get out.
I was thinking about dress shopping with him. He would find the perfect dress that would match my eyes just right. I would put it on and he would suddenly realize that I was the most beautiful thing in the world. And we'd go to the dance together. The DJ would play a slow song. Phineas and I would dance together, holding each other tight. And right before the song ended, he would lean in and—
"Isabella!" Adyson screeched. "Geez, get out of Phineas-land already. I know you two have a date tonight but we have practice right now."
"Stand down, Fireside Girl," I told her, glaring in her direction. She gave me a knowing look and I just sighed. She was right. I couldn't do this if I wasn't all here right now. The fact was, I couldn't be all here right now. Thankfully, Coach understood and let us go early. We had learned the routine. Now it was just a matter of practicing it.
I went home, still far too early to expect Phineas to be ready. He said we'd go shopping around 5:30. I stared at the clock next to my bed. It was only 4 o'clock. I still had an hour and a half. Knowing me, I'd probably use that time to think. And thinking wasn't usually a good thing. It either led to Phineas-land or somewhere dark. Neither was good. I mean, sure, Phineas-land seemed awesome, right? But once I was out, I felt empty, like I was missing something in my life.
I shouldn't feel this empty. I have a great home, a loving family, awesome friends, good grades. Supposedly, I have everything every teenager could want. The only thing I didn't have was a boyfriend, and not everybody needed a boyfriend, right? I mean, I was at least friends with the guy of my dreams. Most girls couldn't say that much. So why in the hell was I feeling this way? Depression was supposed to be for people with problems. I was a normal girl with a normal, privileged life. I was so spoiled that I couldn't handle a little heart break. Like, are you kidding me? I'm getting depressed over this? How pathetic am I?
I went to sit at my desk, spinning mindlessly in my chair until I had a head rush from dizziness. I mean, torture was usually a good punishment, right? Torture… I looked over at the supplies on my desk until I found what I guess I had been searching for. The bright pink scissors sat right in front of my face. If I was going to act like a moody teenager I might as well go the extra mile. I picked up the scissors and looked at the sharp edge. People always say that there's a feeling of relief when you see the blood coming out of your body. It's like your trapped emotions just spring free from that little slice.
I opened the scissors. How easy it would be to just slide it across my skin, leaving that red trail in its wake. I tried one slash; nothing. I didn't press hard enough and all I got was a little white line, something I knew would heal in a matter of minutes. I could just press harder. I would get that release that everyone talked about. Why was it so difficult for me to just do it? Was I really that weak? Was I that pathetic? I felt like a depressed, emo teenager, and yet I couldn't even gather up the courage to cut myself? I was hopeless. Completely hopeless. I shouldn't even be here.
What was I trying to cut for anyway? To be another sad sob story about the poor girl who couldn't handle her emotions? Was I trying to get attention for it? It wasn't like I needed attention. I was popular. I was cheer captain. Cheer captains were not supposed to cut. It doesn't fit into the stereotype. Why the heck was I so stupid in thinking that cutting would solve anything? It wouldn't. It was just a ridiculous form of masochism. I wasn't a masochist… Was I? Apparently not because the thought of the blood trickling down my arm actually had me scared. I couldn't do it. I couldn't cut myself. I had tried. I had really tried. I had the blade against my skin and everything. And still I couldn't do it.
It made me think, if I had a bottle of pills in front of my right now, could I swallow? Or would I be just another sad excuse for a failed attempt. I probably would be so stupid that I would swallow pills that wouldn't even kill me. They'd just put me in a hospital and then call me crazy, keeping me under constant watch if I ever got smart and found the right pills. I wouldn't solve my own problems. I would just cause more problems for everyone around me.
I finally put the scissors back on my desk, tears rolling down my face. That's how pathetic I was. I was crying because I didn't have the courage to actually be an emo kid. I didn't have the courage to do anything more than a scratch. I could have done that with my finger nail. I went back to look at the utensils on my desk. Too pathetic to use stupid scissors. Instead, I found a mechanical pencil, no lead in it, and a metal tip.
I pulled down the side of my skirt, revealing a piece of skin I knew no one would be looking at. Was I really doing this? I grazed the pencil across my skin multiple times in the shape of the letter "P" after running across it enough I looked at it. I could see the letter I had drawn, my skin was raised and red, but the mark would go away in a few hours. My leg was stinging like a bitch but that was the good part. I guess I understood the release from cutting, even if I didn't have the courage to do it. I continued scratching; "A". The straight lines didn't feel as bad because it kept the cool metal running in the same direction for a while. "T". What was I doing? This was so stupid of me. "H". I mean, what if anyone found out? I don't plan on someone pulling down my skirt, so I guess that was a good thing. "E" Everything about this was completely irrational. My leg was stinging even more now. I knew it would still hurt for a little while after I was done. "T". Why did I keep doing this? Oh yeah, because I was only two letters away from finishing. If anyone did see it, I would look like even more of a coward with only half of a word on me. "I". Great, and I was writing in a way that I could read it. Me, but I was above it. To anyone else it was upside down. Now I would look really stupid. The curves of letters definitely hurt more and I reveled in that as I drew in the last letter, "C". I was stupid. I was a coward. And now I was marked, "PATHETIC".
Keep telling yourself something and it'll be true, right? That's what they say anyway.
Again guys, this one was more personal. "Stupid", "pathetic"; names can only be held at bay for so long until they physically hurt you. Please leave a review. I love hearing for you guys.
I'm sorry the chapter was a little short. But I couldn't bring myself to add anything else to it. The next chapter should be much happier.
~M4llyM0u53