I have nothing to say today. I hope you all have a great day.
Depression is like a void. Once you're sucked in, there is no such thing as getting out. You're trapped, suffocated, and unable to get help. No one has the will to deal with your problems, and help free you from the void. You're left alone, and you're faced with the troubles that have to be handled by yourself. Everything is on you, and there's nothing you can do about it.
That's how I feel right now. I'm alone, I'm abandoned, I'm left in the dust. I've been rejected and ridiculed. Shoved around and beat. I've been unloved by many, when I've loved them with everything. I've given them everything I had, and yet, I get nothing. I don't want or mean to be greedy, rude, or speak against my family, but it is the complete truth. I always protect them; I always make sure that they are out of harms way, but then they walk away without a care when it comes to helping me. They're not there when I need them the most.
Like what I have said, is that I have made too many mistakes in my life. But what I haven't said, is that I'm scared. I'm afraid that I'll make a mistake that'll cost their lives, and I'll never be able to see them again. Because then I'll know that they died hating me, as if they don't hate me already.
They think that I take everything too literal or too seriously. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I will admit, most of the time, I do.
. . .
Four small boys were playing a new board game that Donnie had gotten for his thirteenth birthday. The eldest of the four had actually decided to join his brothers, and they had accepted. At least, the two younger ones did.
"Gah, D! I don't get this!" Little Michelangelo, who was still twelve, whined. He wasn't understanding the game, and he needed a new explanation.
"Alright, Mikey. I'll explain it again. First, you-" Donnie began, but was cut off. Of course, it was Raph.
"Really, Don? Ya' gonna explain it ta' him again?"
"Raph, he doesn't understand. Just let me explain it to him."
"If he don't understand, then he shouldn't be playin'!"
"Raph! Just let me tell him how to do it!"
"No!" Raphael began getting up and walking away as the eldest spoke up.
"What's your problem?! Why do you have to be such a jerk all the time?!"
Raphael turned around, his small body already trembling in anger. "What did ya' just say ta' me?!"
Leonardo was scared at first, but he stood his ground—something he normally doesn't do against his immediate younger brother. "You know what I said, hothead!"
Raphael charged. He pulled out his Sais as he ran towards his brother. He was furious. "Ya betta' apologize fer that!"
Leonardo still held his ground, despite his own body trembling in fear. He stepped back as his brother charged. his hands up. "Raph, calm down."
"No! Ya' want a fight with me? Well now ya' got one!" The younger yelled. He knocked Leo to the floor, got on top of him, and started hitting him repeatedly.
Leo yelped as he was nailed in the nose. "Please, Raphie! Stop!"
"Ha, 'Raphie'?" The younger one mocked the older. "Ya' more pathetic than I thought!"
Meanwhile, Donatello and Michelangelo had left the room to get Splinter, only to be turned down and ignored. Splinter didn't want anything to do will Leonardo, even if the leader was being beat by his own brother. At this point in time, Leonardo had suffered through abuse for three years. So Splinter figured that the boy was used to it.
Back in the living room, a helpless Leonardo—who had already started crying—was still being hit by an enraged Raphael.
"Stop cryin'! Ya' decided ta' stand up ta' me, now this is what ya' gonna get!"
Leonardo helplessly tried to cover his face, but failed. He tried to stop his brother, but, again, failed. He could feel bruises form on his face with every punch, and his vision blurred every time a hit was taken.
Finally, Donatello and Michelangelo both came out of Splinter's room, confused as to why their father wouldn't help.
"Raph, stop! You're hurting him!" Donatello was the first to attempt to stop Raphael. However, Raph knocked Donnie off of him, and continued to beat Leonardo.
Michelangelo ran up to Raph and tugged on his older brother's arm roughly. "Raphie, stop! Please!" The younger' voice cracked as he yelled, which caught Raphael's attention.
He stopped hitting Leo—much to his dismay—and looked at Mikey, who had tears in his small eyes, and some even falling down his face.
Raphael's anger faded away at the sight of his baby brother; he was his only weakness. As he was about to get up, Mikey spoke.
"Raphie . . ," he pointed to an area near him. "Look."
That was when Raphael had realized that Leonardo's body was limp under his own. He turned his head to look at his older brother, and what he saw made him sick.
Leonardo's face was covered in blood and bruises. His nose was bleeding profusely, his lips split from the contact of his teeth and Raphael's fist, and his tongue bleeding from biting it too hard. The boys eyes were closed, and his face was blank.
Raphael's eyes widened "Leo . . ?"
Once he recieved no response, he grabbed his brother's shoulders and started shaking his limp body. "Leo!"
. . .
That was the first time he had ever hit me—aside from training—let alone knock me unconscious. Now, whenever he does it, he walks off without a care. He doesn't come to see if I'm okay anymore. That was shown from what he had done earlier today. He shakes it off and leaves with no problem. Somehow, it seems like he knows I'm used to it. Which I am; getting beat for everything you do starts to grow getting used to. And I have been used to it for a long time. My father forces me to; he doesn't give me a choice. He expects me to be perfect; he expects me to make no mistakes. It's been like this ever since I was little.
. . .
"Stop! Fix your form!" The old rat sparred, hitting the kid in the arm with his sharp staff.
"I-I . . ," the boy stuttered as tears filled his eyes. "I'm trying."
"Try harder! This has to be perfect!" The master of the child kicked the kid to the floor, causing the child to lose his grip on his weapons. "You're weak! You're useless to this team; to this family! You're nothing, Leonardo!" The rat yelled, before growling at the child. "Would you want the lives of my sons to be lost due to your mistakes?"
The boy shook his head. "O-Of course not, Master," the child whimpered, more tears filling his eyes at the thought of losing his brothers.
"Good," the rat paused. "If you keep up this carelessness, I will show you the real meaning of pain. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master," the boy trembled.
"Now get out of my sight!" The rat yelled, kicking the boy in his side.
"Y-Yes, Master," the boy got up and stumbled out of the dojo. On his way to his room, he passed his brothers. They didn't turn one glance to him.
He arrived at his room and cried, the sounds of his sobs being buried by the pillow he used to keep himself quiet. As always, no one heard him. No one checked on him; no one came in to make sure he was okay. No one ever cared for him.
The boy took his head out of the pillow, revealing a puffy, red face and bloodshot eyes. He ran to his dresser and scurried through a drawer, before pulling out a piece of class. He pressed the sharp material against his wrist—his small, marked wrist—and draggged it, making more marks than he once had.
Instead of shedding more gruesome tears, the boy let his lips twitch into a small smile. He wanted this pain; he enjoyed it. He felt as though he deserved it, for all the mistakes he's made. He was a mistake, himself. He just knew it.
. . .
I still know that, now. I'm a mistake; a glitch in the code. I don't deserve to live a life, even the horrible one I'm living now. My family hates me; my brothers, my father, even April and Casey. They hate me for the things I've done in the short time I've known them, and they will never go back on that hate. No one will, and I know that.
I'm in my room now, holding a switch blade in hand. I drag the sharp metal across my wrist, smiling just as I did when I was young. I had lost all my innocence when I was just a boy, and I'm not any better now. If anything, I'm worse.
Cut, cut, cut, cut.
My mind screams at me again, and I am unable to fight those voices.
They don't care about me. They showed me that earlier today, when they were talking about our training. They think that I only get praised, and nothing else. The way that they're wrong makes me want to laugh, then cry.
My door opens. "Hey, Leo. We have patr-" There's a voice behind me. "What are you doing?!"
It was Donnie.