*A-N* Hey guys. I've done my thing at these angsty fanfictions, and I
realize it's just not my thing. so I'm sitting in my room, and I remember:
I have a friend who's been through all of it, pain and angst. so this is
her story. And in the end, if you're lucky, she might let me tell you her
name, so everyone who knows her can understand her a little bit better.
*Note* this story involves cutting, suicidal thoughts and all in all a really screwed up little girl. For the record, cutting is NOT okay, nor is suicide, but I take it that you're all smart enough to know that. I'd just be an irresponsible author if I didn't say so.
Prologue: Can't Get Crazier (8th Grade)
Sighing in boredom, 13 year old Bo rocked in her chair. She could hear her mother talking softly with the receptionist.
*Another shrink visit,* she thought to herself, rolling her eyes and smacking harder on her gum. *Just what I've always wanted.*
Her mother came up and sat down beside her. Bo could feel her eyes burning into her face.
"Don't look at me like that." She muttered, sipping her frappuccino and curling one leg under her.
"I wasn't looking at you like anything." Her mother said simply, opening a magazine. "What's with you and your obsession with people's looks?"
"Well it comes naturally for a psycho to be psychotic, right?" Bo muttered, scribbling idly in a notebook. "I can't believe you're so surprised." Her mother rolled her eyes. She had tried a million times before to tell her daughter that she wasn't psychotic, but she was so stubborn that it was an impossible feat.
A tall, flamboyant man opened the door and smiled at Bo's bored face.
"Bo." He said, opening the door wider.
Bo shook her head, and stood up.
"This is bullshit." She muttered, whooshing past him and into is brightly lit office.
Her mother smiled weakly at the psychologist and shrugged.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
"So, how was your weekly visit to the institution?" Bo's boyfriend, Carson, joked, lacing his fingers in her own. "Anything exciting happen?"
She shrugged.
"No."
Carson raised his eyebrows. She almost always complained when she got back. He watched her curiously as she itched her knee for the thousandth time that day. Laughing, Carson raised his eyebrows.
"Got an ant bite or something?" HE asked her.
"No." She said quickly, turning her leg so it was facing the other direction. "No, just a nervous habit."
"Bo-"
"I'm fine, okay?" She shouted. The rest of the people eating at the table looked up from their other conversations and stared. "F-Fine. everything's perfectly normal." She nodded. "Normal."
But obviously, everything was not normal. Bo sat quietly on her bed, staring at the cut on her knee. Cutting was okay. It was expected of her, right? She was crazy, and it was perfectly normal for a crazy person to do this. It wouldn't make her any crazier; it wouldn't make her any saner. She looked across the room at her desk where her pocket knife was tauntingly set by the keyboard. She sighed and untangled her legs. Standing up, she glided silently across the room and roughly grabbed the handle, squeezing it so hard that her hand hurt. The blade was screaming her name, begging her to slide it along her leg. thirsty for her blood. Shaking violently, she returned to her bed and looked at her reflection in the blade.
Her heavily lined eyes were now more bloodshot from lack of sleep then they were chocolate brown. She nodded at herself and held the knife to her knee.
"It's okay." She told herself. "You can't get any crazier. just do it. It helps."
And with that, she pushed on the tip and dragged it roughly across her flesh. She closed her eyes in pleasure as blood trickled down her leg. It was bliss. Everything she wanted. everything she needed.
Opening her eyes again, she let a few tears stain her cheeks.
If this was okay, then why did she feel so guilty?
She shook her head and wiped the tears off her face. It wasn't her fault. She never asked to be like this. She wanted more than anything else to be normal. just to be like everyone else. of course, it was impossibility. She'd been different since the day she was born. Deathly allergic to peanuts. to the point where it would kill her to eat just one. and then not to mention the ADD and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, which she had been diagnosed with only a month earlier. Her psychologist had prescribed Paxil.
It did its job for a week or so; then she began to change. She felt nothing but pain. nothing but depression.
Stress was overwhelming her body. Homework, grades. Her best friend, the one boy she could love more than anyone else in the world had been involved in a pot chain. Her boyfriend was overly attached to her. the world was going to hell. She had to end it. there was no way she would be able to survive. so much had happened that year that her friends had begun to pity her.
Bo sat up, thinking.
How could she do it?
*That doesn't matter.* she told herself, shaking her head. *I can't leave behind a boyfriend.*
Exhaling deeply, she turned on her computer.
"Bingo." She whispered, seeing that Carson was online. She quickly pulled up an IM and began to type.
Carson, I'm sorry. but I can't go out with you anymore. It sounds cliché, but its not you. it's honest to god just me. my own problems. I'm sorry, but I just don't love you like you love me, and I think you could do so much better.
Letting more tears fall from her eyes she turned off the computer before he could answer and returned to her bed, sobbing into her pillow.
*A/N* Oki, that's it right now. keep in mind, Bo is 13 and is in 8th grade. Please Please Please r/r people. I live off of feedback
*Note* this story involves cutting, suicidal thoughts and all in all a really screwed up little girl. For the record, cutting is NOT okay, nor is suicide, but I take it that you're all smart enough to know that. I'd just be an irresponsible author if I didn't say so.
Prologue: Can't Get Crazier (8th Grade)
Sighing in boredom, 13 year old Bo rocked in her chair. She could hear her mother talking softly with the receptionist.
*Another shrink visit,* she thought to herself, rolling her eyes and smacking harder on her gum. *Just what I've always wanted.*
Her mother came up and sat down beside her. Bo could feel her eyes burning into her face.
"Don't look at me like that." She muttered, sipping her frappuccino and curling one leg under her.
"I wasn't looking at you like anything." Her mother said simply, opening a magazine. "What's with you and your obsession with people's looks?"
"Well it comes naturally for a psycho to be psychotic, right?" Bo muttered, scribbling idly in a notebook. "I can't believe you're so surprised." Her mother rolled her eyes. She had tried a million times before to tell her daughter that she wasn't psychotic, but she was so stubborn that it was an impossible feat.
A tall, flamboyant man opened the door and smiled at Bo's bored face.
"Bo." He said, opening the door wider.
Bo shook her head, and stood up.
"This is bullshit." She muttered, whooshing past him and into is brightly lit office.
Her mother smiled weakly at the psychologist and shrugged.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
"So, how was your weekly visit to the institution?" Bo's boyfriend, Carson, joked, lacing his fingers in her own. "Anything exciting happen?"
She shrugged.
"No."
Carson raised his eyebrows. She almost always complained when she got back. He watched her curiously as she itched her knee for the thousandth time that day. Laughing, Carson raised his eyebrows.
"Got an ant bite or something?" HE asked her.
"No." She said quickly, turning her leg so it was facing the other direction. "No, just a nervous habit."
"Bo-"
"I'm fine, okay?" She shouted. The rest of the people eating at the table looked up from their other conversations and stared. "F-Fine. everything's perfectly normal." She nodded. "Normal."
But obviously, everything was not normal. Bo sat quietly on her bed, staring at the cut on her knee. Cutting was okay. It was expected of her, right? She was crazy, and it was perfectly normal for a crazy person to do this. It wouldn't make her any crazier; it wouldn't make her any saner. She looked across the room at her desk where her pocket knife was tauntingly set by the keyboard. She sighed and untangled her legs. Standing up, she glided silently across the room and roughly grabbed the handle, squeezing it so hard that her hand hurt. The blade was screaming her name, begging her to slide it along her leg. thirsty for her blood. Shaking violently, she returned to her bed and looked at her reflection in the blade.
Her heavily lined eyes were now more bloodshot from lack of sleep then they were chocolate brown. She nodded at herself and held the knife to her knee.
"It's okay." She told herself. "You can't get any crazier. just do it. It helps."
And with that, she pushed on the tip and dragged it roughly across her flesh. She closed her eyes in pleasure as blood trickled down her leg. It was bliss. Everything she wanted. everything she needed.
Opening her eyes again, she let a few tears stain her cheeks.
If this was okay, then why did she feel so guilty?
She shook her head and wiped the tears off her face. It wasn't her fault. She never asked to be like this. She wanted more than anything else to be normal. just to be like everyone else. of course, it was impossibility. She'd been different since the day she was born. Deathly allergic to peanuts. to the point where it would kill her to eat just one. and then not to mention the ADD and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, which she had been diagnosed with only a month earlier. Her psychologist had prescribed Paxil.
It did its job for a week or so; then she began to change. She felt nothing but pain. nothing but depression.
Stress was overwhelming her body. Homework, grades. Her best friend, the one boy she could love more than anyone else in the world had been involved in a pot chain. Her boyfriend was overly attached to her. the world was going to hell. She had to end it. there was no way she would be able to survive. so much had happened that year that her friends had begun to pity her.
Bo sat up, thinking.
How could she do it?
*That doesn't matter.* she told herself, shaking her head. *I can't leave behind a boyfriend.*
Exhaling deeply, she turned on her computer.
"Bingo." She whispered, seeing that Carson was online. She quickly pulled up an IM and began to type.
Carson, I'm sorry. but I can't go out with you anymore. It sounds cliché, but its not you. it's honest to god just me. my own problems. I'm sorry, but I just don't love you like you love me, and I think you could do so much better.
Letting more tears fall from her eyes she turned off the computer before he could answer and returned to her bed, sobbing into her pillow.
*A/N* Oki, that's it right now. keep in mind, Bo is 13 and is in 8th grade. Please Please Please r/r people. I live off of feedback