Midari came home from school one day feeling empty and full of despair. For a couple years now she has been maintaining mostly negative thoughts about herself. Yes, there were periods of euphoria where anything could be achieved. Unfortunately those periods were too far and few in between. This school day was not much different than the rest. She was a first year student at Hyakkaou Private Academy for around three months now. She has not been bullied, keeps to herself, a self imposed outcast as such. Her grades were quite good, never been to detention, the teachers she has like her. Overall the situation is not too unusual, not stellar but far from insufferable. It was a bright afternoon, a few clouds scattered across the sky with a couple blocking the rays of the sun. She entered her home, put the school supplies away, and went to the kitchen. There she picked up a recently bought eight inch chef's knife. Next to the knife was a partially eaten cake that was used to celebrate her 14th birthday. She went up to her room. No one was home but she wanted to dull the noise of her future wincing. To the corner of the room was an old turntable. Midari plugged in the cord to the power outlet and began skimming through a set of records she collected over the years. She picked the 1997 album titled Portishead by Portishead. The song titled All Mine began playing, All the stars may shine bright. All the clouds may be white. But when you smile. The volume was turned up significantly. Her own thoughts could not be heard. Oh how I feel so good. But thinking is not required for this moment. That I can hardly wait. She took the knife across her right forearm. To hold you. Enfold you. Never enough. Render your heart to me. All mine. Light but firm pressure was applied. You have to be. Midari started to wince in the pain from the first few slashes. From that cloud, number nine. Danger starts the sharp incline. Continue cutting, creating a permanent design. And such sad regrets. Oh as those starry skies. A puddle formed. Her cries grew as the knife edged deeper into her forearm. As they swiftly fall. Make no mistake. You shan't escape. Immediately she went onward to her left forearm to leave a unique design that she knew would appreciate. Tethered and tied. There's nowhere to hide from me. All mine. The puddle was forming into a pool of red liquid but Midaris' determination continued through the agony. You have to be. So don't resist. We shall exist. Until the day. Until the day I die. Despite feeling nauseated from the blood loss she charged against her bedroom wall. Rubbing her fresh wounds against the surface. All mine. Some fresh paint. You have to be. To create something abstract and beautiful, just like her… "Midari‽" Fuck, mom's home.
In a psychiatrist's office a younger Midari is sitting next to her concerned mother. 'Manic depression, that is what you are diagnosing me with?' The doctor nodded. "This is a condition that will be with you for the remainder of your life I'm afraid. Treatment I would recommend is a round of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors or SSRIs. It would help you deal with your symptoms but it will not cure your illness." Midaris' mother interjected. "Will she need any other treatments in the future, just in case the SSRIs are not enough?" "Ms. Ikishima if I may say, your daughter will need more than just some pills. I also recommend that Midari receives weekly psychotherapy to start then biweekly and so on if her condition improves. At this moment, I would not suggest having her be by herself for quite a while. Let alone around any items that she could use to hurt herself. I'm sorry." The psychiatrist left the room to give the family a minute to process the situation at hand. Midari looked into her mothers eyes. Tears were forming from the traumatic experience, feelings of guilt surfaced as well. "I'm so sorry my dear little Midari. I should have known how much pain you were in." Her sobbing grew louder as Midari held her with her heavily bandaged arms. 'I am sorry Mom for scaring you with this. Hopefully we can move forward to a better tomorrow.' "And I will be by you every step of the way. You are my daughter, I will never give up on you." A few tears fell from Midaris' eyes, saddened at the fact that she did not die but more so that the method used was so anticlimactic. The cuts into her right forearm were exhilarating at first but that sensation quickly went away as if the actions made were inherently dull. There has to be a more satisfying way to go. For now though, put on a smile and recover. Another time will come, eventually.
...
'So yeah, that's why I am dropped off and picked up from school every day.' Midari paused, missing the main point. 'Oh, and that's why I wear bandages around my forearms. It's not just a style choice. My past is covered every day in fresh bandages. The first few days when I returned to school, there were a few extra layers applied. I accidentally bumped against a doorframe when leaving my Drawing I class and after immediately feeling the pain of the stitches keeping my wounds at bay, the bandages started to turn red. I called my mom and she came to the school and picked me up. She had me stay home for an entire week until my wounds healed enough so that a simple bump would not cause a slow stream to flow down to my elbow and begin dripping.'