The sharp, silver blade of my knife slid quickly across my forearm. I didn't wince or feel anything even relevant to fear. My left hand places the bloody cutting tool on the bathroom carpet, in front of the shower. Leaning against the opposite wall, I put my right arm against my legs for study. Blood was rising from where the knife had just been, in a long red slash, just above my flesh.
And what's this? You're starting to fear me, just because of a little self-mutilation? Most people aren't at all freaked out by this. They quickly brush it out of their minds, not giving it even a second thought. No one ever tries to stop me...
No one dares.
Now you want to try and stop me? Hah! Like you could ever do that. I'm stopping for no one. I once promised to two different Gods that I would stop cutting and I betrayed even their divine power and found my skin kissing the knife in two weeks.
I have problems.
I cut myself for the pure thrill. I love how my pulse speeds up just before the blade of a knife penetrates my skin-- it's the rush of the mystery of how deep you'll go, how deep can you go before you go too far… Plus there's fun in it. Watching the crimson liquid pour out in dribbles, then fall onto the floor and onto my clothes, licking the blood here and there, provoking more to come out, pressing it ever so slightly until that one sensation from the nerve signals to your brain that you've gone too far… it brings joy.
Chaos brings me joy. I thrive off it. The confusion, frustration-- fear. I love it. Anger rises, problems grow, shouting begins, and it's so… enjoyable.
Then there's depression, the emotion that reminds one of black: the absence of color, therefore matching: depression the absence of joy. A person's mind is clouded, anger grows, rage fills, and you lose control if you take too much. It's sadness, angst, and so many more melancholic thoughts- all of which I thrive off too.
I enjoy "sad" things. I despise anything joyful, all the things you see on television that claim will help you succeed at anything… morals, goals, dreams. They're all something thought up by people who sicken my stomach as much as their ideals do-- ideals based on false hopes and dreams that, in the end, will leave you broken hearted and with a lust for vengeance on your fellow man. Now who would want to live in a world like that, huh?… Ha-ha.
My hands are a danger. The black handle of a knife makes excitement rush up my arms, screaming for them to bend to the knife's will… I'm willing to kill on my own though, even my own flesh and blood. I'm eager to push my brother off a cliff… to stab someone. Anyone!… As long as I can feel the slowing pulses of the victim's heart vibrate through the knife and through my veins as they take their last breaths, and then, like the extinguishing of a candle's flame, nothing…
I worship blood. The wine that keeps life going. It's beautiful really, and that's partly why I cut myself… To see it, pouring out slowly as my knife leaves a thin crimson line where it separates open the skin... I love scars too. My cuts will hopefully leave scars. I like being injected with things at the doctor's office. Some people think it's odd, but I find pleasure in a needle being inserted into my body, and look forward to every appointment with great anticipation.
I don't really care too much about the world, it'll die eventually, taking with it everything else I've come to hate in this horrible life… I'm annoying, stupid, and a basic retard. I do the wrong things and at the wrong times, I don't realize my mistakes until the last minute, and I'm horribly naïve. I sometimes tend to ignore how the people around me feel… I'm a wreck. Even my senses are at a whack, all because of my stupid brain. I think so much all the time often don't react at the right times, and I respond to the wrong names. Someone might say "Kensuke" and I'll turn to them... It's like I'm on drugs.
Heh. I'm telling you all this and you still don't even know what the hell my name is. Well, let me tell you, as this seems as perfect a time as any for introductions: I'm Motoki Ikari. And you are?
Nobody to me at least, the same way I am Nobody to you. But you're reading this, so soon, I'll be somebody in your pathetic life.
You see me in your imagination in the bathroom, with the water in the shower running and the steam billowing up from it, filling the room with warmth as I sit on the floor and slip the knife against my arm again, hoping for those scars I love so much.
Is that a blank expression I see on your face?… Is that what it is?… You have a question?
Ah, you're wondering why I'm pretending to shower when I'm really on the floor causing my body pleasing harm…?
There's a simple answer.
Today is the last day of school. I can see you think I'm crazy now, because obviously I'm disappointed by that. In fact, so depressed by it, I'm having a knife session before your eyes.
Well there's an answer to that too.
My parents haven't always been too big with me and friends, or even me being a person for that matter. My dad thinks they're useless to me, and that they'll all fall victim to at least one of the following: gangs, drugs, or, the most amusing one of all, getting a girl pregnant.
Sure, now you're thinking that he's probably right, being since he's the father figure and is always right… Naïve though, aren't you? My father isn't right all the time... I am. I know because I correct him, only to be reprimanded for doing so.
The thing you don't know is that my dad has never even seen my friends, so how can he possibly know them? How dare he talk shit about them to my face?… He's lucky, that one. We were in the kitchen when we had this particular argument, and I swear my hand was eager to grab a steak knife off the counter and jab it through his chest…
Wondering how this argument came about? I'll tell you.
You see, these two idiots at school, Mr. Kamatoke and Mr. Sadamoto, for some reason picked me for their little private program. They gave me all these applications to go to these advanced schools, and my parents just about forced me to fill them out, never once showing any signs of support. Before they got sent out though, I dared to ask my dad if I could wait a year to apply, just to finish my time in Jr. High, but he wouldn't hear of it, so he asked why. The answer, as you may have guessed, was because of my friends, thus beginning the most memorable argument of my life.
Right about now you might be wondering "How rotten can his friends be for his father to hate them so much? They're only in Jr. High, how bad can they be at such an adolescent age?" If you recall though, I clearly stated my father has never even seen my friends, so clearly you are making assumptions as well as to the kind of people they are because after careful judgment, I have concluded that they are not as rotten as my father makes them out to be. It'd be best to stop now and introduce you to them before we carry on.
First off, there's Aboshi Kouichi. We've been friends for about a year, and friends who were not really friends the year before that even though we have known of each other's existence since the fifth grade. When we first started sixth grade, Aboshi was the only kid I knew in my entire third period class, so I sat with him. Back then I had another best friend, a girl named Yurika, who I would always hang out with since we met in second grade, but we had different classes then and went our own ways that year, and so when she started hanging out with others, I started hanging out with Aboshi and his friend Seiji Yoshiyuki, who even though understood English very clearly, always spoke only in Japanese, and without proper grammar, might I add.
So, like I said, Aboshi, Seiji, and I hung out at lunch and stuff. But we were friends who were not really friends. Aboshi was unappreciative to be graced by my presence, and often made fun of me. I didn't mind then, and I could retaliate pretty well, but it was abuse nonetheless. Once we broke out into a physical fight.
Back then though, I was less confident. I didn't let people see who I really was, afraid of being ostracized and looked down on, and at the end of sixth grade, I started to just be myself and showed people who I was because I had on the internet, and the people there had liked me. And guess what? The people in my real life liked me too.
Apparently the person I had kept hidden from the world was very cool, and Aboshi developed a respect for me, and from there on we became good friends. He now considers me his best friend, something I'm very uncomfortable about… I would too consider him as my "best friend" too, but it's a tough choice between him and Toji.
Toji Hisakawa is a boy I met at the beginning of the seventh grade. He was in my first, second, and fifth period class, so social contact was bound to happen eventually, especially when all classes arrange seating by alphabetical order, and I does come right after H. That's right. I sit next to him in all three classes we have together.
The first time we had any dialogue between each other was in our second period P.E. class. At our school, we have sets of numbers from 1- 35 painted neatly on both sides of the gym. Each teacher has his own set to place his students on. One particular day, I was standing on my number, waiting for our teacher to come. Aboshi was in our first and second periods too, and I had come before him, so he came running up to our class' set of numbers, and began to run all around them crazily, the "unique," strange individual he is. Toji was standing behind me and knew I was Aboshi's friend so he goes ahead and asks, "Hey, why's he doing that?"
I answered with, "Iono, he's just like that," which didn't sound like something I would say to someone I had just met. Normally I say something wild. I hadn't used this on Toji though, because I hadn't marked him as a possible friend, but when lunch came that day, Aboshi came out of his third/fourth period class with Toji. He spent lunch with us, and so I acted like myself, and he liked me, and we've been friends ever since. I've gone over to his house twice, my parents don't know though, because both times it was before a school dance which I was allegedly helping to set up... We only went to his house though so he could drop off his backpack since he lives so close to Seiun Junior High. I'm very fond of him, and I like him a lot too. Only as a friend though... I think.
Toji came in a package though. His best friend from sixth grade, Kensuke Akagi, was in his and Aboshi's third/fourth period as well. Kensuke and I aren't very close. See, Kensuke is what you would call shy, and doesn't say much to other people but us. He's fun though, and I like him too, and he likes me. Only as friends though. I'm positive with that.
Basically those are my closest friends-- the kids I'm always with at school. There are others, but you don't need to know them. They won't matter to you, because they really don't to me. Most of them anyway… But you'll meet those rare few soon enough.
Anyway, this whole battle between my dad and I about my friends is the reason why I must keep a very important secret from my parents: I have a girlfriend.
Up until I met Asuka Kaji, I had only had two online relationships, and one real life relationship. All of them I kept secret. You can't even BEGIN to comprehend the war zone my house would be come if I ever dared tell my parents. Being together with Asuka already comes with its own set of problems as it is.
Someone else I might have mentioned to you when I told you about my friends, if he still were my friend, was Sango Hoshino.
Sango was Asuka's best friend. Being as it was a boy-girl relationship, it was only natural he fell in love with her. He was my friend as well, and he told me his feelings toward her over the Internet on weeknights, and I advised him on their relationship. I knew how much he liked her…But I also knew she liked me. That was thanks to him though.
At one point, he told her over the phone how he felt about her. She apparently didn't return his feelings, and this all happened just as I found myself attracted to her. About a week after he told her, I acted on my own emotions.
One day I asked her straight out if she liked me, and she was brave enough to admit it. I would've told her I liked her too, but some stupid aid was watching so I couldn't, and waited until the next morning to do it. Later that day at lunch, as we walked by each other, about 6 feet away, I shouted over to her, "'EY! ASUKA! YOU WANNA GO OUT WITH ME?"
She nodded excitedly, and the next time our paths crossed a few minutes later, she asked me if I was sure about it and I was sure. So our friends left us, and we walked around together, holding hands. Sango saw us, but I didn't care. He hasn't spoken, or even looked at me since. I find that amazing, considering we hang out with the same people in the mornings before class, and have three classes together as well. It's not too bad of a set-up though.
Now what do you think? Is my father still right? I don't think so.
I have lots of fun with my friends. I love who I am. I love my girlfriend. People think I'm smart and talented, and they just might be right, but I chose to hold back my awareness of it… I could have a great future ahead of me, and many people seem sure of it. Seems peachy, no? How could I possibly have anything to complain about?
I still have problems. One thing can ruin everything. One thing is family.
Then there's my constant wondering if my friends really think of me as a friend. Do they really care about me? I don't dare ask. It drives me crazy not knowing. Knowing Asuka likes me isn't enough for me. I need to know there is someone else out there that cares for me.
Is it you? Are you the one? Do you like who I am so far?
I hide the knife under the clothes I will put on, and slip out my pajamas. I slide open the shower door, and walk in and begin showering. After my shower, I will reopen my cuts, and then I will go to school.
You can't possibly like what you see right now. You don't know me yet.